


Yellow Brick Road

by Araceil



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action, Adventure, Avatar!Aang, Canon Typical Racism (Avatar), Carving ATLA:LOK Canon up for Juicy Bits, Cuddling, Disability, Drama, Firelord Ozai's A+ Parenting, Harry Potter Gets a Hug, Homophobic Fire Nation, Hug Therapy, Humans influence Spirits, Humour, Iroh (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Iroh (Avatar) is Best Dad, M/M, Medicinal Cuddling, Miscommunication, Multibender!Harry, PTSD, Past Child Abuse, Possession Gives Harry some Chill, Raava is the Spirit of Order and Death, Romance, SO MUCH TEA, Shouting is a form of Communication, Spirit World shenanigans, Spoilers, Starts pre-series, Touch Aversion, Uncle Iroh's Actual A+ Parenting, Unreliable Narrator, Vaatu Isn't Evil, Vaatu is the Spirit of Chaos and Life, Zuko (Avatar) Gets a Hug, Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Zuko Makes up by having Exactly Zero Chill, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zuko's Canon Temper, dumb teenagers, somewhat AU, touch starvation, yin and yang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27592979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araceil/pseuds/Araceil
Summary: YOU RETURNED.He blurted as Harry peered through the opening in his tree.I DID NOT THINK YOU WOULD.Harry grinned, “I’m full of surprises. And also elements. I got them all. So. You ready for this?” he asked as he rolled his sleeves up.Vaatu swelled up to his full height and flicked his tendrils,ARE YOU READY, HARRY, TO HELP ME REDRESS THE BALANCE?he asked pointedly.The Gryffindor nodded. “Yep. Let’s get you out of that tree?”Famous last words.When making deals with the Fae, with the Spirits, and with the Gods, be careful what you say. Words have power, and your word is your bond. Harry learns this the hard way when he finds himself in a strange world, in the middle of a war, with a powerful spirit latched onto his soul. First he must fix the balance, find his Spiritual Brother, and only once he'd saved the world would Vaatu help him find a way to save his own. So. Y'know. No pressure or anything.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Vaatu (Avatar), Harry Potter/Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 569
Kudos: 2007
Collections: Great Harry Potter Crossovers, Huzzah! A Crossover of Quality!





	1. Chapter 1

Eyugho - [Twitter](https://twitter.com/eyugho) \- [tumblr](https://eyugho.tumblr.com/) \- [Magical How!?](https://www.magicalhowcomic.com/)

Harry would just like it to be known that none of this was his idea, and when he got back he was going to give Ron such a punch in the nose - right after he hugged the stuffing out of the red head because whatever that Confundus and those brains had done to him was not good. Harry would forgive his friend a lot, especially when under the influence, even if it did end up with him being shoved into some strange psychedelic Woodstock hallucination world where everything was clashing shades of glowing pastel neon, and floating, and eyes, in odd places.

Well, he said it was like an LSD trip, or what the TV said an LSD trip was like, but there were more than a few places that were almost indistinguishable from reality and would have been, if not for the occupants. He got to meet so many interesting beings, very few of them human, not all of them friendly, but not all of them cruel either - yet they were, _all of them,_ surprised to meet him. He guessed humans didn’t come here very often, and when he mentioned it to the monstrously huge wolf he met at the edges of a barren twisted dark landscape that made all the hair on the back of his neck stand straight with discomfort it started to laugh. It was loud and howling and made the faceless creatures and beings of the wasteland stop and stare for a heartbeat before they fled. The wolf agreed, and then told him to hurry on his way. And do avoid the fog.

He tried. 

He did not succeed.

But in all honesty, facing his worst memory was hardly new. All of them, playing endlessly as he wandered around, meeting all sorts of strange humans who were lost in their own memories, until the fog faded and he found himself able to orientate himself and just walk out. Much to the astonishment of a few spirits who had been lingering near-by for whatever reason. That was when he learned about the Fog of Lost Souls, a prison for humans who invaded the Spirit World. Which explained where he was.

The strange lemur-bat he was speaking to choked and laughed to hear that he didn’t even know where he was, cackling about how truly he must be one of the most enlightened humans to walk these paths since Master Gyatso. Harry had no idea what he was talking about but decided to take the compliment anyway. Enlightenment and ignorance were two sides of the same coin, weren’t they?

It was strange. His emotions felt so far away here, so quiet and simple. After Ron pushed him in it felt like he was struggling through tar or even honey and then like everything was _still_ underwater. He wanted to go home, but he didn’t panic, didn’t rage, to find himself in a strange world far from home. Even after what felt like three weeks of walking, he didn’t feel hungry, or sleeping, hadn’t needed the bathroom, his legs hadn’t started to ache, and his eyes hadn’t even started to itch or ache. It was like he was static, stuck, frozen in time. And his emotions were stuck with it. Not at the heightened state they were when he went in, but... base line. Stuck. Neutral. 

It was probably for the best.

The bat-lemur and the wolf were some of the nicer spirits he had met, but they believed he was here for a purpose and weren’t exactly forth-coming when it came to helping him, saying wisdom had no value if it was just given to you instead of learned. 

His lucky break came in the form of some strange dark thing of hunger and malice with limbs a little too long to be anything but unsettling, a sallow distended body with a round pot-belly and almost concave chest. Its head twitched unsettlingly from side to side and its eyes were wide set, white, and pupilless in its long hairless, chinless, noseless face, a peeling toothy maw stretching from ear to ear in a wicked crescent that managed to look both red and painfully dry at the same time. 

He was literally something out of a nightmare, or one of Dudley’s gross video games.

But he went down like cheap exploding snap cards with barely any effort on Harry’s part and started wailing about helping him the second he raised his wand.

Which brought him here.

Walking through a frozen wasteland to a huge twisted tree, worse than anything he saw in the territory the wolf patrolled, bigger, _older_. But there for what he felt was the same purpose. A seal. Whatever was here, was trapped here, and that tree made sure of it.

And then he saw the weird glowing manta-ray like spirit drifting around inside of it like the universe’s bitchiest kite, and had to bite back both a laugh and a sharp inhale of alarm.

...The markings were kinda cool at least.

He climbed the short path and hopped up upon the roots to look up at it, at _him_. 

The two stared long and hard at each other.

Harry couldn’t particularly say what the spirit saw in him, but... To Harry he seemed... lonely. Old. And so very bitter.

“One of the other spirits pointed me in your direction. What name would you prefer I refer to you as?” he asked politely. When speaking to spirits, one had to be very careful about your words and how you spoke to each other - there were a hundred pitfalls and traps in words alone. 

**YOU MAY CALL ME VAATU, HUMAN. TO WHAT END HAVE YOU SOUGHT ME OUT?**

Harry sat upon the tree root beneath him, “Thank you for speaking with me, Vaatu. If you wish it, you may call me Harry. I came to the spirit world by accident and have wandered the paths for some time. I seek to return to the human world and I was told there was a gate here that could free me. That you were the keeper of the gate. May I ask if this is true?” he asked keeping himself as polite as possible, as if this were one of Uncle Vernon’s business partners, or the vicar at the church that Aunt Petunia used to drag them to on Sundays before Dudley got them kicked out of Sunday School for being a bully.

The spirit was silent for a time.

**THE GATE IS CLOSED. I AM NOT ITS KEEPER, BUT I CAN OPEN IT, IF I AM FREE.**

If he were freed. Of course.

**MY OTHER HALF, MY ‘SISTER’, SEALLED ME AWAY FOR TEN THOUSAND YEARS TO FURTHER HER OWN IDEALS OF BALANCE - AND IN DOING SO, THREW HER OH-SO-PRECIOUS BALANCE OUT OF ALIGNMENT.** Vaatu explained, _lectured_ , coiling his drifting tendrils around himself and folding his nail beneath him almost like a python and kind of... slumping? _Sitting_ ? Yeah. He was copying Harry, his actions and body language. **THERE CANNOT BE ORDER WITHOUT CHAOS. THERE CANNOT BE LIGHT WITHOUT DARKNESS. THERE CANNOT BE DEATH WITHOUT LIFE. MY SISTER IS RIGHTEOUS AND SHE IS RUTHLESS. BECAUSE I AM HER OPPOSITE, SHE HAS SEEN FIT TO REMOVE ME FROM THE BALANCE OF EXISTENCE AND ENTRAP ME HERE. THUS THE WORLD SUFFERS FOR HER ARROGANCE. NEITHER OF US CAN KILL THE OTHER, A PIECE OF US LIVES AND GROWS WITHIN THE OTHER, WE ARE REBORN FROM EACH OTHER AND ARE ETERNAL. BUT IMPRISONING ME HERE, WHERE I CANNOT FULFIL MY PURPOSE, THAT SHE COULD DO.**

“Ten thousand years is a long time,” Harry observed neutrally. “How out of balance has the world become?”

**I DO NOT KNOW. I CANNOT OBSERVE THE WORLD AND YOU ARE THE FIRST HUMAN EITHER BRAVE OR FOOLISH ENOUGH TO APPROACH MY PRISON.**

But the spirits had approached him. And that rather sinister looking fellow with the teeth was the one who directed him here, which - he probably shouldn’t judge a book, or a spirit, by its cover but he got the distinct impression that Teeth had sent him here for nefarious purposes. Except... he didn’t get the feeling that Vaatu was anything like Teeth expected him to be.

“Where do _you_ sit on the scale of balance?” he asked curiously, fairly sure already but he could be wrong.

**I AM THE CHAOS TO HER ORDER. DARKNESS TO HER LIGHT. LIFE TO HER DEATH. NEITHER OF US MAY LIVE WITHOUT THE OTHER, AND BOTH OF US ARE VULNERABLE TO THE INFLUENCE OF HUMANITY. STRANGE THEN THAT I FIND MYSELF MAINTAINING MY SENSE OF SELF BEFORE YOU WHILE SHE LOST HERSELF TO THE WHIMS OF THAT PATHETIC** **WRETCH** **.** For the first time, his voice took on a sharp hissing timber, full of hatred as the markings across his body flared and crackled with emotion. Someone was angry, _very_ angry. He had to wonder who this ‘wretch’ was. If humanity influenced the spirits, which was not uncommon in old stories and the like, then chances were this person hadn’t even meant to. 

“I was taught how to shield my mind somewhat. Perhaps that is why I’m not influencing you. It’s a very uncommon skill. I doubt any influence was meant maliciously,” he offered, watching as the spirit went very still for a time, mulling over what he had just said.

**WHETHER IT WAS INTENDED OR NOT IS MEANINGLESS. ONLY WHAT IS...** There was a long silence as he felt the full weight of the spirit’s attention. **YOU FEEL AS SHE ONCE DID. LIGHT. BUT WITH A SEED OF DARKNESS. THAT SEED IS NOT MINE THOUGH. IT IS MORTAL.**

His hand involuntarily jumped to his forehead, Dumbledore’s words about Voldemort leaving a little piece of himself behind to give him his Parselmouth abilities - wait.

“You two are Yin and Yang,” he blurted, and flinched as the spirit reared itself up to its full height, power crackling around it.

**HOW DO YOU KNOW THOSE NAMES?!!**

He flinched back but remained sitting before reaching out and tracing the symbol upon the flaking bark in front of him, the spirit going very still and focusing on the circle in front of him. 

“I don’t know much. My country doesn’t have much to do with - I mean, we’re practically on the otherside of the world. Yin and Yang, Feng Shu-ey, the four directions. All I know is that there’s five elements and everything is about balance and harmony with energy in both your life and your surroundings,” he explained awkwardly. What little he knew was based off bits and bobs, dribs and drabs, from Dudley’s cartoons, books at junior school, texts at Hogwarts, stories, and occasionally from TV. It wasn’t a lot to go off of. He saw a lot of pictures in the travel guides he used to collect from the travel shop on his way home from school back when he used to fantasize about leaving England and the Dursleys and beginning a new life far away somewhere warm and sunny, and he’d read a fair few cooking recipes for when Aunt Petunia wanted to seem adventurous to Uncle Vernon’s dinner guests. But he knew literally nothing.

**THE FIVE ELEMENTS. YES. THAT IS TRUE. EARTH, WATER, AIR, FIRE, AND ENERGY.** He was pretty sure it was metal and wood instead of air and energy but who was he to protest the spirits themselves? Things got lost in translation and over the course of history. At over ten thousand years old, Vaatu was definitely a greater authority than anything Harry could hope to find. **I WAS SEALED WITH THOSE ELEMENTS.** Ah.

Harry sighed, “Then I cannot free you,” he admitted plainly, the disappointment as muted as everything else he had felt in this strange place. He wasn’t able to wield elemental magic here, and all of his spells were... not quite sideways but _raw_. Like all the subtle nuances of the magic had been blurred or smeared out, it was still... kind of what he wanted. But it felt clunky, tiring, and _wasteful_. Inelegant. _Blunt._ And with it like that he couldn’t wield elemental magic without it going wildly out of control. Safer for everyone, including Vaatu, that he just not even attempt it right now. Fawkes’ freely given phoenix feather went a long way for allowing him to wield fire safely, or at least without harming himself, but it just wasn’t enough.

Vaatu just watched him, none of his disappointment showing. Waiting.

It took Harry an embarrassingly long amount of time to realise the spirit expected him to leave.

Which would make sense, wouldn’t it? They had nothing to offer each other anymore, but it felt kind of wrong to just abandon him to his ten thousand years of solitude just because he couldn’t help Harry get home. Even if you were a spirit that was a long time to be alone, and a long time to be hurt and upset. Long enough to get over it maybe? Reason it away? Be driven insane by it? He didn’t think Vaatu was insane, he didn’t seem like it, but he also didn’t seem very interested or engaged, very lively at all. There was something very... _defeated_ about the air around him. Deflated. Like Sirius would sometimes be at the kitchen table before he realised Harry was there.

“...What was it like ten thousand years ago? Did you like it?” he found himself asking, not wanting to abandon the being to his loneliness. His body didn’t need anything right now, perhaps that was because it hadn’t come with him into the spirit world? His body was back home in complete stasis, or time was holding still. That was a story, he didn’t remember where it was from though. A man lived in the spirit world for a thousand years and when he left it - he hadn’t aged a single day but his mind remembered all those years and his body aged and crumbled immediately as though he had lived them. Or was it that a thousand years had passed _outside_ the spirit world and he found himself wondering an unknown world until he realised what happened and _then_ aged? 

Either way, it felt like the right thing to do, to stay. Even if it was just for a little while.

* * *

He did not stay for a little while. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but it ended up being something that felt like days, just chatting with the spirit trapped in the tree. They talked about how the world used to be, the human settlements upon the backs of the lionturtles, how the men and women who ventured out of their settlements into the spirit wilds would be gifted an element to protect them until they returned with the food and water they sought. How he and his sister would live in harmony until those times when humanity ventured too close and their desires and natures would poison their minds, driving them briefly mad as they tried to correct the balance in themselves by destroying the other. How neither of them ever realised this and Raava, his sister, eventually bound herself to a human soul, utterly corrupted by the influence so similar to Vaatu’s own that she sought to become whole through him, and threw the world out of balance in the process. How she sealed him away, believing herself whole and lost in the morals and influences of her human mind that she imprisoned him and decried him as evil, and then _closed_ the spirit gates entirely to separate humanity from the spirit world. Thus rendering herself and her host the only beings able to bend all four elements, and the most powerful. 

In turn, Harry told him about Earth. The magical world and the muggle one, history and the countries and advancements of technology and their understanding of the universe - something the spirit was fascinated by and eager to know more. Harry told him about Voldemort, his childhood, Hogwarts, how he even came to be in the spirit world and everything he had seen since he came. Vaatu eventually fell quiet, and then mused wonderingly if Harry was the descendent of the humans that Raava and Wan abandoned within the spirit world because they refused to follow, refused to abandon the lionturtles that protected them for generations prior. Until Raava forced the lionturtles to give up their vows of protection - that was the last that Vaatu heard of the situation before he was sealed.

With Raava forcing the lionturtles to turn the protection of humanity over to her, thus forcing them from their cities upon their guardian’s backs, the humans were left with the choice of following her to the human world, or staying in the spirit wilds. Humanity had their own bending, that was what made them receptive to even learning how to wield an element - they were, all of them, born with the ability to bend their own spirit energy. 

That was when Harry got an idea.

“The lionturtles can bless someone with bending but only if they’re an energybender first, right?” the Gryffindor demanded, jumping to his feet and smoothing his hair from his face. Vaatu nodded, quietly confirming it. “So! I’m already an energybender, right? That’s what you said, the way I use my magic is energybending on a whole other level to what you remember us being capable of! If I go to the lionturtles and ask them for their aid, that means I can free you before the next convergence and you can reopen the portal. I free you, you free me. Sound like a good deal?” he asked as he grinned almost recklessly at the spirit, he must have been particularly giddy to feel this strongly about it in the spirit world. He had spent long enough with Vaatu to be certain about his character, listening to his stories, studying him, his personality, getting a feel for him. He would not feel guilty in the slightest about releasing the Chaos Spirit - like he said, the world needed both light _and_ darkness, order _and_ chaos. You couldn’t have one without the other.

He flashed the spirit a thumbs up, “I’ll see you when I have all the elements!” he called as he hopped down off the roots, much happier now that he had a concrete plan of action, and someone that he could help with a concrete goal. They would help each other and walk away as friends.

He travelled for a long time, and met a lot of spirits as he went.

A huge lady with three heads, no eyes, that looked like she was made of wood took a shine to him. She commented on how he wore a face that wasn’t one of hers and even offered him a new one. He turned her down as politely as he could, saying that his was a gift from his parents and he wanted to keep it in their memory. She had been oddly touched by that and asked him what boon he wanted instead of a new face. So he’d asked her where the closest lionturtle was, explaining that his friend was trapped and he was hoping the lionturtle would help him free them. She pointed him to the west and told him that he was a very strange human for using a boon given to him for the good fortune of another. Harry shrugged and said it was for everyone really and took off after bowing properly as she laughed.

Eventually he saw a volcano with trees and white stone ruins that didn’t match the rest of the landscape around it and quickly made his way over, recalling Vaatu’s stories about how large they were and how often they moved around. He didn’t dare set foot on it, not wanting to be insulting, but instead circled around until he found the being’s face - and would have probably shat himself if his emotions weren’t so muted or dull when he found it awake, aware, and _staring_ at him in as much shock as he himself felt.

“Uh,” his voice broke a little. He quickly cleared his throat and bowed properly, “Mister lionturtle, uh, Miss lionturtle. My name is Harry Potter, I was hoping I could speak to you, please? Uh, if you’re willing that is.”

He felt a tickle in his skull and the lionturtle sat up, the ground trembling and shaking, tree roots and earth ripping free as it did so suddenly.

_HUMAN HARRY POTTER. IT HAS BEEN MANY EONS SINCE LAST ONE OF YOUR KIND HAS SOUGHT ME OUT._

The Gryffindor shrugged a little uncertainly. “Uh, sorry, I came to the spirit world by accident. I don’t know if the humans you know left and became my people or not. But - I was hoping to ask for your help anyway.”

_HOW SO?_

“Vaatu. He is sealed away at the spirit gate under the four elements. I’d like to free him so that he can open the gates. Not only because I hope it will be able to send me home, but also because he is needed to maintain the balance, even I know that. But I don’t know when the next convergence is, and only someone wielding all four elements can break the seal without it. Would you be willing to share your blessing with me? Is there anything I can do to earn it?” he asked hopefully.

The lionturtle was silent, watching him. Harry kind of got the distinct impression that he was being judged.

_TELL OUR STORIES. DO NOT ALLOW THE TRUTH OF OUR EXISTENCE BE FORGOTTEN. AND PROTECT THE SPIRIT OF LIFE WHEN YOU FREE HIM. HIS SISTER HAS EXISTED TOO LONG WITHOUT HIS INFLUENCE, TOO LONG UNDER THAT OF HUMANITY, SHE HAS FORGOTTEN HERSELF AND HER DUTY. SHE HAS TIPPED THE BALANCE, AND IT TRIES TO TEAR ITSELF ASUNDER TO CORRECT IT. TO YOU, I GIVE THE GIFT OF FIRE. MAY IT SERVE YOU WELL HUMAN HARRY POTTER._

It heaved itself up, and breathed hard. Golden fire blasting out from between its jaws and bathing him in heat and warmth and light and a thousand colours. It felt like sinking into a hot bath after November Quidditch Practice, painful but wonderful.

_FIND MY EARTH BROTHER IN THE NORTH. SEEK MY WATER SISTER IN THE SOUTH. AND MY AIR SISTER IN THE EAST. THEY WILL BLESS YOU EACH IN TURN, IF THEY FIND YOU WORTHY OF FAVOUR._

Harry opened his eyes, not remembering when he closed them, and froze.

The lionturtle was gone.

How the hell did something that big just _vanish?!_ Even the _volcano_ was gone!

...He started walking.

It took a long time to find the earth lionturtle. Mainly because Harry was expecting another mountain like the fire lionturtle he’d met. 

_Not a fucking continent_.

The earth lionturtle was easily the size of England itself. Harry didn’t even realise he was walking on it until he found the first ruins with their beautiful murals depicting a variety of ways of earthbending, of life in the city, of praising the earth lionturtle. There were a few animals, but no spirits. A talking cat told him that spirits couldn’t come into the human cities without an invitation, and they couldn’t leave afterwards either. He would take Harry to the head, if he was willing to let him go free of the city - ten thousand years was an awfully long time to be away from the colony. 

His request in exchange for the bending was the same as the fire lionturtle. Take care of Vaatu, do not allow their stories to fade, and preserve life wherever he walked. In exchange, Harry got buried.

Buried and then ground like so much flour. The earth shook itself apart around him, in him, until it stopped sounding so much like grinding cracking rock but music. Until he figured out how to slide his fingertips through the fault lines and pull himself through as if swimming.

When he surfaced he discovered that the earth lionturtle had buried him, and then crawled across his coffin, the grinding noise that turned to music was the sound of the turtle’s stony belly scraping across the ground above him.

He coughed, shaking dirt from his hair and got to his feet. Two down, two more to go - water and air remaining.

He walked to the coast and found a tiger walrus who was willing to give him a lift to the water lionturtle, but asked that he used his new firebending to keep them warm because the south pole was _cold_. Harry was quite happy to do so with his new ability, reasoning he had to learn how to do these sorts of things and the spirit world was probably safer. And so the two of them swam down into the darkness and the cold and caught the ocean currents that would guide them far, far, away down to the south pole where the water lionturtle was sleeping. She was quite mercurial that one, she might decide to help him, she might also eat him if she liked the look of him, or didn’t like the look of him, or was just bored, or angry. Her moods were as ever changing as the tides.

The water lionturtle was awake when they reached her. And she was utterly uncaring as to their request. Shoving enough seawater into Harry’s lungs during her blessing as she physically could with a rough yes, fine, here, have some power, now fuck off. Less crudely worded but that was undeniably the tone of the conversation. She had a beautiful almost lyrical voice, but her manner was very abrupt and she had no patience for mortals, or mud-monkeys that abandoned her only to come crawling back when they wanted something, take it and go.

Finding the air lionturtle once he’d gotten back to dry land and coughed up his lungs took the most time. He didn’t know where to begin looking but assumed that since he found the others in their respective elements that he should probably look in the sky for them (could they fly? That would be just his luck if they could fly). With that in mind, he went looking for some air spirits who would be willing to guide him like the tiger walrus had.

Only the golden dragon spirit, Shang, was willing.

They flew to the east and along the way the dragon lectured him about firebending, a skill that the humans in the human’s Fire Nation had learned through watching him and his brothers. Before they turned on them and started killing them for their horns and hides. In exchange for his aid in finding the air lionturtle, Shang demanded that Harry do everything in his power to protect the few dragons remaining in the world. Harry apologised and told him that he had never heard of the Fire Nation and was probably from a different world, but he would look into the dragon situation back in his home and do what he could to make sure the sanctuaries were taking care of their charges properly. Shang felt his honesty and claimed that it would have to do. 

The air lionturtle was only too happy to share her power with him, claiming that so very few of her people remained. She could feel only one and he was sleeping, far out of reach. The loss of her human tribes saddened her, especially as with the world so out of balance she couldn’t begin to bless any new babes without running the risk of sentencing them to death once again. She asked that he aid the last of her tribe, and remind Raava and her little human that the balance was not _just_ what she held in her purview - and stop bullying your older brother.

Shang stared at him with a complicated look on his face once he had obtained the lionturtle’s blessing.

“You seek to free the Spirit Vaatu?” he asked slowly as Harry climbed back onto him.

“Yeah. Balance needs to be restored, and he can get me home so... I figure I help him, he can help me, the world’s balance is restored, everyone wins,” he explained as he got comfortable.

Shang rumbled thoughtfully as he launched himself into the air.

“Raava has been attached to her humans’ reincarnation cycle for too long. She can’t exist outside of it any longer. Vaatu will not be strong enough to address the imbalance without a host of his own,” the dragon mused as they flew. 

“I think he plans to stay in the spirit world,” Harry admitted with a frown, “He doesn’t like humans.”

The dragon didn’t say anything until they landed on the outskirts of Vaatu’s territory.

“Harry... I am glad it is you,” the spirit said solemnly. “I never knew Avatar Wan. But I have heard many stories of him and Raava, their actions at the beginning of their era.” He went quiet for a moment, and Harry waited because it seemed like he had more to say. “...Turn your face towards the Sun, young human, and walk tall. You go with the blessing of the Dragon Clans,” he declared strongly as he lifted his head and then bowed, pointedly.

...He was totally missing something here. 

“Thank you Shang. Uh, Face the Sun and Walk Tall too,” he returned awkwardly and bowed back.

The dragon gave him a fanged grin and then took flight, leaving the Gryffindor to return to Vaatu’s tree.

**YOU RETURNED.** He blurted as Harry peered through the opening in his tree. **I DID NOT THINK YOU WOULD.**

Harry grinned, “I’m full of surprises. And also elements. I got them all. So. You ready for this?” he asked as he rolled his sleeves up.

Vaatu swelled up to his full height and flicked his tendrils, **ARE YOU READY, HARRY, TO HELP ME REDRESS THE BALANCE?** he asked pointedly.

The Gryffindor nodded. “Yep. Let’s get you out of that tree?”

Famous last words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. Fuck Nanowrimo, the ADD brain raccoon says no. It latched on and started screaming about this and would not fucking stop. This is a very old bunny that I haven't really played with in a while but it came back. It came back OTL, and Eyugho is a filthy enabler who has been encouraging me all through the writing process *cries*.


	2. Chapter 2

**AWAKEN.**

Oh  _ fricklefrakle it was fucking  _ **_cold_ ** .

Harry came to with a jerk and a sharp inhale that resulted in a chunk of snow shooting down his throat until he choked and bolted upright, coughing the melted water out. God, it was so  _ cold! _ It was - snow?

He stared around himself in mute horror at the frozen world around him, at the pristine untouched plane of pure icy white. His breath steamed in front of him, the sun reflected blindingly off the snow, the sky was flawless heron’s egg blue without a single cloud in sight, without a single lick of a breeze, and it was  _ unforgivingly _ cold.

“W-where…”

**THE NORTH POLE.**

Vaatu.

_ Tentacles _ \- he remembered  _ tentacles _ .

“I  _ ate _ you! You shoved yourself down my  _ throat! _ ” he yipped in horror, stomach churning in remembrance. As soon as he had managed to bring the four elements to bear (badly. The lionturtles had given him the power but none of the knowledge, he worked off instinct and what he remembered of elemental magic), the seal around the purple and black spirit shattered like spun glass. Then everything had been noise and power, purple and black, Vaatu had grabbed his wrists and then… dove into his mouth? Somehow? His entire form had kind of folded in on itself and - “I can’t believe I deep throated a fucking ghost,” he moaned in horror, dragging his hands through his hair. His  _ long _ hair. 

He grabbed a handful of black strands in confusion. Why was it so long?!  _ How _ was it so long?!!

**HUMANS ARE DISGUSTING.** The spirit complained, no doubt understanding the meaning behind his words purely because he was  _ in Harry’s brain _ .  **I AM NOT POSSESSING YOU. MUCH. IN THE MANNER TO WHICH YOU ARE FAMILIAR WITH,** he protested awkwardly.

“Oh really? Because what do you call a spirit forcibly getting into your body and then occupying a space in your brain if it isn’t possession, hm?” he demanded sharply, successfully distracted from the hair issue. He  _ freed _ this fucker in exchange for being freed himself, this - 

**I ASKED. YOU AGREED. ALONE, I CANNOT REDRESS THE BALANCE. RAAVA WOULD ONLY SEAL ME AGAIN,** the spirit grit out.  **TO BECOME A SPIRITUAL HOST, I WOULD HAVE BEEN FORCED TO DO UNSPEAKABLE THINGS TO ANOTHER’S SOUL. YOU… SOMEONE HAD ALREADY DONE SO TO YOU. ALL I NEEDED TO DO WAS EJECT THE SEED OF DARKNESS NOT YOUR OWN AND TAKE UP THE SPACE WITHIN YOUR SOUL IT CARVED FOR ITSELF.**

The scar, Voldemort, Dumbledore always said Voldemort left a piece of himself behind in him. And now Vaatu had just -  _ Vaatu had gotten rid of it!  _ Elation erupted inside of him, only to sour all too quickly. An unpleasant feeling settled deep within Harry’s stomach as he looked up at the sky, at the sun which was bigger and yellower than the one he remembered. As he looked at the half-full moon in the distance, a pale grey shadow in the blue sky, at the  _ unfamiliar _ face, larger and lower in the horizon than he had ever seen it. He didn’t recognise its face, not like the one he used to grin at back home walking back from junior school, thinking it looked oh so surprised and had freckled cheeks and long eyelashes. He had a bad feeling about this. And Vaatu was suspiciously quiet about it as well.

“Well now we’re  _ both _ going to die out here, because fun surprise, Vaatu, humans can die if they get too cold,” he grumbled instead of anything else as he looked around the frozen wasteland helplessly. “Also, snow isn’t clean, I can’t eat it or drink it. It’ll only dehydrate me more. So, we’re in a fine mess. I’ll die when the sun goes down and it gets too cold, and if that doesn’t happen, then three days without water will do it. And if I do manage to get water, I’ll have something like a little over a week without food. So we’re a bit fucked out here,” he admitted with a deep sigh and - yes it was Vaatu’s fault, but being pissed off at him wasn’t going to get them out of here any faster and it wasn’t going to help them  _ at all _ .

**TRULY? HUMANS ARE WEAK,** the spirit complained in genuine bitter surprise.

Harry rolled his eyes, “Yes, yes, we’re weak and pathetic and we will rue the day you tricked me into unleashing you upon the world. Soon you will consume my soul from the inside out and puppet my meatsuit on your quest to destroy all that is good and fluffy in the world,” he scoffed sarcastically as he chose a direction and started walking. Any one was as good as another without the stars to navigate by - so he decided to follow the moon. It would probably lead him in a big ol’ circle but it would be a lot bigger than the one the sun would lead him in and hopefully he would find a village or a research outpost first.

**I INTEND NO SUCH THING,** Vaatu snapped unhappily in the back of his head, obviously offended. Well la-di-dah, he was living rent free in Harry’s skull without permission.  **IN THE PAST, YES, SUCH THINGS HAVE BEEN FORCED ONTO ME BY HUMANS SEEKING POWER. BUT I AM THE SPIRIT OF** **LIFE** **. IT WOULD DEFEAT MY PURPOSE TO ENGAGE IN SUCH THINGS.**

“And I’m supposed to believe you, after you’ve betrayed my trust already?” Harry demanded shortly grimacing. His toes were already going numb. It was  _ summer _ back home in England, he was  _ not _ dressed for this weather. He was definitely going to lose some toes to frostbite before long. “Look, do you know anything about using the bending powers I got in order to free you? Something that would stop my toes from rotting off?”

**ROTTING?!**

He sighed, “Yes. It’s called frostbite. It happens when the cells in the human body freeze, expand, and then burst their cell walls. They die. If they thaw out they turn gangrene and necrotic and start to poison the body.” 

Vaatu was silent, no doubt absorbing the knowledge, whether it was Harry’s explanation or if he could  _ actually _ access the knowledge in his head remained to be seen. The only reason Harry knew about it was because he’d researched it back in school, back when Uncle Vernon threatened to lock him in the shed over Christmas if he even thought about eating any of the food in the pantry or the fridge. He had been so hungry and wanted to know if it was worth it, so he looked up what would happen if someone were exposed to too much cold. Frostbite was very unpleasant sounding and he never wanted to have it at all, ever. Chilblains were bad enough and Harry had already been forced to deal with those at that point in time. All those errands for Aunt Petunia, not to mention still being forced to do all the gardening, washing the car, etc, as punishments from Uncle Vernon for slights, imagined or otherwise.

**I DO NOT KNOW OF HUMAN BENDING, NOR HOW TO WIELD THE ELEMENTS. APART FROM MY SISTER’S HOST, YOU ARE THE FIRST HUMAN I HAVE SPOKEN WITH, THE ONLY ONE I HAVE NOT LOST MY SENSE OF SELF TO,** Vaatu explained solemnly, a bit apologetically as well,  **HOWEVER. I BELIEVE THAT TO WIELD FIRE CERTAIN BREATHING EXERCISES ARE TO BE FOLLOWED.**

Breathing huh? Well, fire was the element most closely connected to life. It was the only one that needed to  _ breathe _ to exist.

The sun was warm on his back, he could feel it soaking through his clothes and skin to warm his bones even as he breathed in the frigid cold air deeply, holding it in his mouth and lungs until it felt warm before breathing it out. He didn’t know why, but he was still surprised by the third breath to suddenly gush  _ embers _ from between his lips. Of course he gasped as soon as he realised, inhaled them, and choked.

So much for dignity.

Vaatu only sighed in the back of his mind and Harry mentally flipped him the bird with a grumble. In the Spirit World, he hadn’t been panicked about Sirius or Ron or Luna and Hermione and Ginny and Neville, he was trapped there and there was nothing he could have done to rescue his godfather or protect his friends without first getting himself out. In the Spirit World he was detached from his earthly concerns, so he focused only on what he  _ could _ do. It was slightly more difficult in reality even as he tried to cling to that mindset with bloodied desperate fingernails before it could escape, and he would break down entirely. 

At least he still had his -  _ wand! _

“I’m such an idiot!” he yelled crossly at himself, reaching for the stick of wood in his back pocket and casting a warming charm on himself.

The explosion of fire was not anticipated, nor appreciated.

Nor was the complete disintegration of his wand into  _ phoenix song _ and a fiery bird-like shape that immediately winked out.

He gaped, staring at the dusting of fire ash discolouring the glaring painfully white snow in front of him. Absently he shoved his singed fingers into the snow. 

His wand had just combusted. He’d cast a  _ second year Warming Charm _ and his wand… exploded. 

**THAT WAS UNEXPECTED,** Vaatu muttered in his mind,  **I WAS UNAWARE YOU WERE BELOVED BY THE PHOENIX SPIRITS. IT SPEAKS WELL OF YOUR CHARACTER.**

Harry could only throw his hands up in wordless disbelief, grief, and shock. 

How was this his life?

How was  _ this _ his fucking  _ life? _

“I want a refund on my existence,” he growled under his breath as he swept an angry hand through the snow and ash and stomped forward, toes numb and aching, fingertips stinging, ears stinging, nose, eyes, cheeks,  _ face _ . His ribs were beginning to ache from the cold as he wrapped his arms around himself and shoved his hands into his armpits, shivering at the sharp chill.

He didn’t know how long he’d been walking for. Ten minutes, twenty (four?), when the snow beneath his feet suddenly heaved.

He yelped, horror filling him as visions of crevasses opening up beneath innocent people’s feet flashed through his mind. The North Pole was mostly ice, they were significantly more prone to that than the South Pole which was frozen land! 

But instead of dropping, suddenly ice exploded up and around him, whipping what little warmth he had away, he couldn’t help the squeal when it encased his stomach, back and chest.

He goggled at the - the  _ inuits? _ Was that the right term? The indiginous people that lived in the frozen north territories? He remembered one of his history teachers saying around Christmas one year that the term ‘eskimo’ was a racial slur and that they weren’t to use the word, but he wasn’t sure if these were the right people - all his text books had them in… well, blue dyes would be  _ very hard _ to get hold of this far north since it came from  _ plants _ . But none the less, ten men (or women) burst from the snow around him, taking up Kung Fu style stances around him. He shivered violently in the ice, unsure of what was going on because, this was not natural ice so… magic? Or  _ bending? _

“H-hi,” he greeted, teeth chattering, “Aaa-ny-one speak En-english?” he asked stutteringly.

He saw a few of them actually look at each other, but with the way their thick fluffy hoods were up and their face masks went over their noses, he couldn’t be sure what kind of expressions they wore. None of them stood down though, or moved.

“C-could you po-point me to the nea-earest town, pl-please? I’m a lit-ittle lost,” he gasped, shivering in the ice.

One of them, a man, suddenly stepped forward, relaxing out of his stance and reaching up to pull his mask down and speak - the only problem was.... Harry had no idea what he’d just said. He stared at him in confusion. “Does-does no wuh-one speak Eng-english?” he asked hopelessly, grimacing as his teeth began to chatter.

The man demanded something again but Harry just stared at him and shook his head apologetically. He didn’t understand. 

Someone else suddenly suggested something, their tone was muffled so Harry didn’t understand but everyone was still watching him. A third person spoke to the second one before the very first one sighed and did some kind of odd arm gesture that turned the ice holding him up into water. He dropped with a squeak into the snow that turned into a shout as he jumped up, wrapping his arms around himself and shivering violently, wet hair sticking to his face and neck.

“Vaatu? Any id-idea on how-ow to speak t-t-to thee-em-m?” he asked, shivering getting painfully violent.

**I SPEAK TO YOU THROUGH YOUR OWN MIND. IN THE SPIRIT REALM LANGUAGE IS NO OBJECT. IT HAS BEEN TEN THOUSAND YEARS, ANY TONGUE I ONCE KNEW IS LOST,** the spirit informed him as he shuddered violently staring up at the guy in blue as he stomped over and suddenly tried to reach out and grab him. It was reflex for Harry to flinch and jerk away - only he slipped on the slush beneath his feet and fell.

The man sighed with a roll of his eyes, and hauled him up. Harry didn’t really have a chance to react before his hands were tied in front of him. Next he knew a fur lined blanket was being thrown over him and a second person, a man, was crowding him up into the back of the first - he found himself yelping and grabbing at them when the ground beneath them suddenly moved, ice forming.

Then like a fucking  _ jet ski _ they were moving, riding a block of ice across the frozen plain. 

He was so tired.

His legs hurt a bit at first where the cold wind was flying past them, but they went numb pretty quickly, his jeans were frozen so it wasn’t like the wind could get into them anymore. But he was very tired all the same. How long had he been awake? Probably too long thinking about it. There was the whole vision thing, breaking into Umbridge’s office, hiking through the Forbidden Forest, flying all the way to London, the Department of Mysteries, everything that had happened in the Spirit World, Vaatu, and then here.

He drew the blanket around him a little more securely.

No one would mind if he napped for a bit until they got to where they were going, right? These two people were so warm, it wasn’t like he would be in any danger of freezing to death.

It would be fine.

It was not, in fact, fine.

When Yerrik felt the strange child they had captured suddenly go limp he knew their time was limited, “Tarlock! Hurry it up before the prisoner dies!” he called forward, shifting his weight on the sled he’d made of waterbending and beginning to manoeuvre the child carefully. First he turned the boy around, making sure the blanket was covering his legs before pulling him tightly against him and beginning to rub the kid through his blanket to try and warm him up. 

Despite the war,  _ unlike _ the Fire Nation, the Water Tribes weren’t animals. Until they knew for certain this child was their enemy they weren’t going to harm him. Detain him, yes of course, but he was still a child. He was probably still too young for Ice Dodging and it was quite clear he’d hit his head or been Spirit Touched at some point to no longer understand them. When Porok suggested they just drown him and save themselves the headache, the kid hadn’t even reacted beyond glancing at him, even Kuruk’s recommendation not to bother drowning and just freeze him as an example to the Fire Nation hadn’t even garnered a blink. 

Personally, Yerrik was leaning on Spirit Touched for an explanation. It would explain how he ended up at the North Pole in such… ill suited clothing, wearing Water Tribe blue trousers, white shoes, and a thin tunic better suited for summer in the Earth Kingdom in Fire Nation red. Yet when they looked at him, it was Earth Kingdom green eyes that looked back with Fire Nation pale skin.

Thankfully, despite his Earth Kingdom looks, he didn't have the muscle of an Earthbender, even the women were able to pick him up and take him off their hands as soon as they reached the city. They’d needed to hand the boy off the healers or risk him dying before they'd even had a chance to question him properly and the women were easily able to heal his frostbite, as well as the blisters and sunburn he gained from snow glare. 

Concerningly, they reported a number of other very recent and fresh injuries, including burns, nerve damage from what had to be lightning, and something that confused the healers intensely - something that read a lot like 'bending strain', the spiritual fatigue that came from over using one's bending before they were capable of wielding it to such levels. Such strain was not unique to benders, they had seen it in Chiefs past, in the Princess more recently, in the Masters who meditated too long at the spiritual fountain, and any animals who drank from it, and it was somewhat obvious the boy was not a bender. He had all the musculature of a half-starved alley owl-cat, and according to the healers, he had probably eaten like one since early childhood.

They redressed the boy in Water Tribe furs, the only things that could be reasonably expected to keep someone alive in the Northern Water Tribe, before he was shackled and placed within the prison.

It still took three days before he woke up.

Yerrik watched the kid as Master Pakku and Chief Arnok approached the cell, the boy had been very confused and probably frightened when he woke up to find himself in metal shackles, but he calmed down some when he realised his burns had been healed. He spoke to himself a little bit, tried to speak to them, to the other guards, before sighing and settling down to wait. It was surprisingly cute the way he buried his fingers into the fur pelts of his clothes and bedding in fascination, stroking them as if he had never encountered anything similar before in his life. 

Master Pakku sniffed, looking down his nose at the boy who peered up at them and then frowned right back at the master with a cool stare. Yerrik pressed his lips together to hide his amusement, oh yeah, the kid had the Master pegged. “Well, he certainly isn’t a Bender,” the man declared dismissively. “He has neither the balance nor the presence. Even the way he sits and breathes is poor.”

Chief Arnok looked at the Master steadily, “But he is still here,” he stated plainly, making the man sniff at the obvious request to continue with their interrogation of the child. Chief Arnok turned to him, “Boy, do you know who I am, and where you are?” he asked coolly.

The child only sighed and spouted off more of his gibberish.

“A halfwit as well, I see,” Master Pakku observed.

The boy shot him a narrow look, mouth twisting in annoyance as he said more gibberish, loudly, but in what was most definitely a pointed tone of voice. Definitely a ‘ _ I can hear you even if I don’t understand _ ’ would be Yerrik’s guess. 

Chief Arnok sighed and looked at the nearest guard, “Has he said anything of note?” he asked.

Korun shook his head, “No Chief. Just gibberish. When he was speaking to us though, some of the words were notably different. I believe he was attempting other languages, but none of them were understandable.”

“We are wasting our time,” Master Pakku sighed, “Just throw the boy into the sea and have done with it. He is hardly one of ours. The ocean will take care of him.”

“Tui and La.”

The Chief and the Master stiffened like someone had just dropped ice down the back of their neck, they both turned to the boy in the cell as he got to his feet and came closer.

“What… did you just say?” Chief Arnok asked weakly.

The boy stared at them with unnaturally green eyes. And Yerrik felt his mouth go dry as he realised the boy was now pointing, pointing towards the main Palace. “Tui and La,” he repeated. He then started spouting off some gibberish, gesturing carefully, he seemed to be making three different areas with his hands only to stop when he noticed they were staring at him without comprehension. He sighed, and crouched down dragging a finger across the ice in front of him. Three circles, two large ones with a smaller one in the middle, he then put two lines connecting one of the larger ones with the smaller one and then - a compass!

He pointed at himself and then the big circle with no lines coming off it. He pointed to himself and said “Harry. Harry Potter.” Which Yerrik was assuming was his name. Weird name. It didn’t sound Earth, Fire,  _ or _ Water. Well… it  _ could _ have been Earth? Perhaps Northern, near to Ba Sing Se.

The boy then pointed to the smaller circle and began to list names, names that had Master Pakku inhaling sharply.

“Master Pakku?” Chief Arnok murmured warily, glancing at him.

“Spirit names,” the waterbender informed him tensely, “Spirits I know for a fact have not set foot on this earth for a long time. Who scorn it even. I believe he is attempting to infer that the smaller of those circles is perhaps the Spirit Realm,” he muttered unhappily, eyes narrowed on the boy and his ice drawing.

The child then tapped the larger image, he pointed to the line in the north, “Tui and La,” he told them and then pointed once again to the palace. Then he pointed to the southern point, “Raava.” Another spirit? Didn’t seem to be one that Master Pakku knew though, he just frowned in his confusion and scowled. The boy pointed to himself, saying his name and then jabbed the first circle, before dragging a line into the spirit realm, circling it once, before sweeping it up into the circle that he indicated was their world.

Then he shrugged, babbling incomprehensibly and pointing to him and the other waterbenders that arrested him. 

Chief Arnok stared at him for a while, “...Master Pakku, what meaning do you infer from this?” he asked after a lengthy pause.

Master Pakku sighed deeply through his nose, “Likely the same as you. The child claims to have passed through the Spirit Realm. It is possible. It lingers on him still. That he knew Tui and La were near-by adds credence to his story, that he can  _ point _ to them so accurately while in this cell explains why he was coming in this direction. But this city has held for a hundred years by refusing outsiders, by defending ourselves zealously. I do not believe we should change our ways now, not for some Spirit Touched  _ Boy _ .”

The Chief sighed, turning to look at the boy, “I do not believe I am comfortable with ordering the death of a spirit-touched child the same age as my daughter,” he admitted wearily.

“Then shall we just keep him  _ here _ for the rest of his life?” Master Pakku asked only semi-sarcastically.

Yerrik kind of wanted to punch him for speaking to the Chief like that, even if he knew he would be turned into a pincushion before he even raised a hand to the man. He was a good man and a good father, anyone with a soul would be uncomfortable with killing a  _ child _ , especially a spirit touched one.

“Can we not return him to the Spirit World?” Korun suggested, causing the two to look at him. “I mean, he was clearly unprepared to come here. What if it was an accident? If we put him back in the Spirit World, then he should be able to find his way to his home, right?”

“And if he is but the first in  _ another _ invasion plot?” Master Pakku asked archly, “What then?”

“Enough,” Chief Arnok sighed. “Continue to guard the child. I will… commune with the Spirits and decide then.”

“Good luck with that,” Master Pakku muttered under his breath, turning on heel and sweeping out of the prison block with a flick of silver hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *GROSS CRYING* EYU DREW ME COVER ART. SHE DREW ME COVER ART AND I PUT IT IN CHAPTER ONE BECAUSE ITS BEAUTIFUL BUT I DON'T KNOW IF I DID IT RIGHT BECAUSE AO3 HATES ME WHEN I PUT PICTURES UP AND WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> In other news, I do not mean to bash anyone in this fic, but Pakku is an asshole and it isn't until Katara beATs the misogyny out of him and GranGran has some stern words that he improves himself so - yeah. Pakku's a lil' bitch rn. Harry doesn't have the time or the mental strength to be dealing with that rn. Whatever.


	3. Chapter 3

**AWAKEN, HARRY. THE ECHO OF TUI APPROACHES,** Vaatu announced, jarring him out of sleep to hear several voices in the corridor before the man who had been guarding his cell sighed deeply and did more weird hand wavy motions and the icy bars vanished, allowing a beautiful Inuit girl with white hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin to come in. She wore  _ very _ fancy looking furs, thick, white, dyed purple and covered with intricate  _ delicate _ embroidery. Clearly an individual in a position of power.

But… Echo of Tui?

The girl swallowed and then bowed, speaking more of that gibberish but - there was one word he caught.

Vaatu.

She knew he held Vaatu.

He got to his feet and awkwardly copied her bow, “Um, nice to meet you. Sorry, I don’t speak your language,” he admitted, watching her face as her eyes widened with shock for a moment before she took a breath and stepped forward.

She said…  _ something _ , and then reached for his face. and with the way the guy outside his cell was scowling and watching them he made it very clear he wasn’t touching her, his hands were  _ well away _ from the important and pretty young lady as she leaned forward and - pressed their foreheads together.

It felt like getting stabbed in the brain.

Liquid fire poured into his mind and he yelled, trying to wrench away from her, but her cold fingers may as well have been a vice around his skull as she held him in place. Forehead to forehead. Mind to mind. 

Then as quickly as it started, she let him go and he fell, clutching his head and groaning. It felt like hot metal had been poured into his skull. It  _ hurt _ .

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it would hurt you so much!” the girl exclaimed, horrified as she knelt down beside him, pressing cold hands against his forehead. “The Moon Spirit said he would help you understand our language if I just shared a little of my knowledge with you, I’m so sorry!”

He laughed a little breathlessly, pressing his forehead into the blessedly cold ice floor of his cell, “I’m used - used to sudden head pain, but that was a bit intense, even by my standards.” Even Voldemort at his  _ bitchiest _ hadn’t made his brain ache like this.

“I’ll - I’ll go get a healer! Guard, please watch him, be gentle?” the girl begged before he heard the rustling of her clothing as she fled.

There was a long silence in her wake as he just breathed, eyes closed, face pressed against the ice. He felt like his brain had been yanked out, thrown in the world's nastiest industrial tumble-dryer and then beaten with a brick in a sock before being poured back into his skull. With petrol. And then set on fire. And the tumble-dryer was full of bricks too. And on fire.

“So. You… understand us now?” the guard asked after a period of time, and thankfully when Harry’s brain felt less like a soap-bubble about to pop at the slightest disturbance.

“Apparently so,” he moaned before heaving himself upright. “Thanks for saving me out there.”

“You’re… welcome?” the guard suggested more than said, eyebrow raising behind his facemask. “What were you  _ doing _ out there anyway? Especially in those clothes. You nearly died,” he scolded, frowning.

Harry sighed as he gingerly slid onto the furry bed, digging his fingers into silky fluff, “It was an accident. That was where I came out of the Spirit World.”

The guard nodded slowly, “The North Pole  _ is _ a nexus for spiritual energy…” he mused quietly.

“It’s where one of the Spirit Gates are, I’m not surprised,” Harry admitted with a deep sigh, “I’m… gunna lie down for a second, my head is killing me.”

“One more question, kid, where’d you come from?” the guard asked quickly.

He yawned and rubbed his face into the fur beneath his cheek, “Otherside of the Spirit Realm, little country called England.”

“They’re not planning to invade are they?”

He snorted, “We stopped doing that sort of thing a while ago. Too expensive. And,” he yawned again, “no one knows you’re here.”

Sleep took him.

* * *

He woke up to two old guys watching him sleep from the otherside of more icy bars.

It was the sour old guy who didn’t think much of him and the calm one who seemed to be in charge if the fancy jewellery he wore was an indication. Both of them also wore blue with white fur, but the cut of their clothing was also different, the snooty guy seemed to have his with more give to the material, able to move a lot more easily, the slits on his parka were higher than on the important looking man who stood with a quiet dignity - as opposed to the outright arrogance of Mister Snooty.

“I have been informed my daughter visited you yesterday, and shared a blessing from the Moon Spirit,” Dignified Old Guy stated once it was obvious that Harry was at least awake enough to be aware of what they were saying.

Slowly, he pushed himself upright, and nodded as he rubbed his face, “Mmph. Yes, sir. Tui said she should, please don’t punish her.”

“You are in no position to be making demands, boy,” Mister Snooty reminded him with a narrow look.

“Who pissed in your breakfast?” he asked flatly as he rubbed his head, the headache was low grade but it was still there and he felt cranky. He glowered at the old guy, “Seriously, have I offended you somehow or are you this charming to everyone you meet?” he demanded, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his temples.

“Are you this belligerent and ignorant to all of your elders? Or am I just the exception?” Mister Snooty retorted scoffingly.

“Only to the ones who look at me like I’m something scraped off the bottom of their shoe the first moment they see me,” he fired back. He turned away from the old man and nodded to the important looking guy, “My name is Harry Potter, I’m sorry about before. I’d bow but I think I might end up headbutting the floor right now.”

Dignified nodded slowly, “I am Chief Arnok of the Northern Water Tribe.” Harry perked up, that meant these guys were probably waterbenders. Maybe they would be willing to teach him. “This is Master Pakku, head of our waterbenders.” Or not.

“The guard informs us you are from a place called England on the otherside of the Spirit World,” Pakku stated with narrowed eyes, “And that you don’t ‘ _ invaded people _ ’ anymore.”

Harry stared at him with a dull expression, “British Empire stopped being a thing over a hundred years ago, they returned a lot of territory, there were a bunch of world wars as well when other attempted empires rose up and fell.” He didn’t think he could really explain the whole British Empire thing, for one, he was actually British, he was well aware that History was taught by the victor and was pretty sure their history books glossed over much of the British Empire  _ for a reason _ . Also, it was a period of time that stretched from the late sixteenth century all the way to… well now actually. England was still  _ technically _ an Empire as of ‘95. Uncle Vernon had been complaining viciously about the very idea of returning Hong Kong back to the Chinese, but at the same time in favour of cutting them loose to be someone else’s problem. Harry didn’t know or understand about world politics but, there were mixed feelings. He kind of thought the territory should be returned but had heard Hermione fretting about how the Chinese Communist Party weren’t the kindest to their people so… he didn’t know. 

“If I recall my history classes right, it was mostly trading and economical control that made them an empire. And a big navy.”

“And what benders did you have?” Pakku demanded, eyes narrowed on him.

Harry was going to enjoy this one.

“None. We don’t have benders,” he told them flatly, watching as they seemed to have some kind of mental hiccup. “No waterbenders, no firebenders, no earth or airbenders. None.”

Of course they didn’t believe him. 

After being questioned for a few more hours, Pakku sneeringly dismissing everything he said as dishonest while Harry tried to keep his temper because the last thing he wanted to do was breathe fire in a room made of ice. Wet feet were the worst. And so was the smell of singed fur. Either way, eventually they left him alone to flop back on his furs with an entirely heartfelt groan of dismay, he was never getting out of here at this rate. Not unless he figured out how to break out… that  _ was _ a possibility. He’d gotten out of harder places. Admittedly that was  _ with _ a wand and -

“Hey, Vaatu,” he called, ignoring the guard as he looked over at him, “Can I still energybend even without my wand do you think?”

**THE ABILITY REMAINS WITHIN YOU. LEARNING HOW TO CHANNEL IT YOURSELF WILL BE SOMETHING YOU NEED TO FIGURE OUT YOURSELF. THIS FORM OF MANIPULATION IS NOT ONE I AM FAMILIAR WITH,** the spirit informed him as Harry tilted his head and frowned unhappily at the wall.

“Great. Then that means figuring out Wandless magic. Something that only Professor Dumbledore has managed in a century. And here I am, fresh OWL student.” He dragged a hand through his hair, pausing again when he realised it was still long, no one had seen fit to cut it. As tempted as he was to ask for scissors to slice it himself right now, it was keeping his ears and neck warm right now so it could stay.

He was trying  _ desperately _ not to think of the ramifications of what the long hair could signify for the amount of time he spent in the Spirit World. He did not want to think about those ramifications. What it would mean for his friends in the Department of Mysteries, alone, save for the Death Eaters. What it would mean for Sirius, whom was still missing.

He needed to go home.

**WHEN THE BALANCE HAS BEEN RETURNED, I WILL DO ALL THAT IS WITHIN MY POWER TO SEE YOU BACK TO YOUR OWN WORLD,** Vaatu promised quietly in the back of his head.  **YOU HAVE AIDED ME AND THUS IN TURN I TOO SHALL AID YOU.**

“Thanks… but… I don’t think you’re allowed to help me with the stuff back home. You’re the Spirit of Life, aren’t you?” Harry asked, staring up at the ceiling. He was still confused about how the embodiment of  _ Chaos _ was also the embodiment of  _ Life _ .

**WHAT IS LIFE, BUT CHAOS?** Vaatu asked quietly, sounding amused.  **FROM THE STORM TO THE SEA, FROM EARTHQUAKE TO FOREST. EVERYTHING IS A CACOPHONY, A CLASHING OF LIFE, OF TIME, OF GROWTH, AND DECAY. MY SISTER IS THE EMBODIMENT OF DEATH, FOR IN DEATH, THERE IS ORDER. ALL MUST DIE, AN INESCAPABLE TRUTH. THE SOUL OF THE DECEASED IS REINCARNATED IN ACCORDANCE WITH THEIR DEEDS IN LIFE. SHE IS JUDGEMENT. OR WOULD HAVE BEEN, HAD SHE NOT BOUND HERSELF TO MORTAL FORM, AND IMPRISONED ME, HER MIND POISONED BY** **HUMAN** **JUDGEMENT.**

“Good and evil are human concepts,” Harry echoed, recalling something he read in a book once about fairytales. “You cannot apply human concepts to the Fair Folk. To the Spirits. Or the Gods.”

**INDEED. YOU ARE WISE BEYOND YOUR YEARS.**

Harry quirked a half smirk at the ceiling, “I’d like to say I had good teachers, but I read that in a book about fairytales.” He sighed and sat up suddenly, ignoring the guard that was staring at him through the bars as he scooted to the edge of the bed, “Where  _ is _ your sister and her host?”

**LIKELY AT THE SOUTH POLE. WE ARE MIRRORED TO EACH OTHER, HAD SHE BEEN IN THE NORTH, I WOULD HAVE EMERGED IN THE SOUTH,** he explained with the mental equivalent of a shrug as Harry tried to wrap his mind around that one. He knew that… space was a bit different between the Spirit World and the Physical Worlds. There were plenty of stories about fae paths and fairy hills and other spaces all around the world that operated similarly where you walked through an opening and went to one place but walking through it again would take you somewhere completely different. But he wasn’t sure what he thought or how he felt about something so… it just sounded wrong to him. 

And Vaatu was chuckling in the back of his head at his confusion so Harry resolved to just shove the whole concept in the box of ‘ _ weird magic shit I can’t explain _ ’ and be done with it.

So he sat back and concentrated on a chip of ice on the far side of the room, and tried to summon it to him. He figured it would be easier than attempting to levitate it.

It was not, in fact, easier.

It took the better part of three days to do, and the only reason Harry stuck around that long was because he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to get the keys and escape without being able to figure out his magic. If he still had it, if it hadn’t been completely swallowed up by the elemental bending he had been given.

He almost cried with relief the first time the ice chip clattered across the floor towards him without any outside help beyond his own. 

And then, of course, because he was being watched like a hawk by the guards, he was summoned before the ‘Council of Elders’. Which wasn’t much of a council so much as the Chief with his daughter sat on one side, Pakku on the other, and three rows of old men with a single woman in the back with her head down and her hands clasped quietly with no one talking to her at all.

“We have spoken with the Spirits,” Chief Arnok told him, his voice filling the room, ensuring that the council were silent and listening behind him. “It is their wish that you are to be allowed to wander free from our lands. And return when you are ready to learn. Explain to us, child, what exactly is it you are to learn from us?” he asked pointedly.

Harry shifted, “Probably waterbending, eventually.”

“Eventually?” Master Pakku echoed scornfully.

He nodded, “After I’ve got firebending and earthbending sorted, yes.”

You could have heard a pin-drop in the room as everyone stared at him.

Vaatu sighed in his mind,  **THE MORE YOU SPEAK LIKE THAT, THE MORE PEOPLE WILL BELIEVE YOU ARE MY SISTER’S HOST,** he warned, making Harry twitch and straighten.

“But I’m not Raava’s host, the other multi-bender. I only got those powers like… a little while ago in the Spirit World. I’m helping her brother, Vaatu, correct the balance and then he’s going to help me get home to my people where I’m needed for  _ our _ problems,” he hastened to explain reassuringly. “I don’t want to interfere with this world, but Vaatu can’t move around without help so… we cut a deal and here I am.”

“You… cut a deal… with a spirit?” one of the unknown Elders demanded even as Master Pakku looked at Chief Arnok and made a twirling ‘he’s crazy’ gesture at the side of his head.

Harry shrugged, determinedly not paying attention to the little bitch sat opposite him, “They talk. You just have to be careful with your words. I wasn’t,” he admitted with a grimace. It gave Vaatu the in he needed to take up residence and he was never not going to be at least a  _ little _ bit resentful about that, even if he had forgiven the spirit for it. Vaatu was trying to do what he thought was best, and there was more at stake in his world than Harry’s fragile trust or even his life, so he could understand where the Chaos Spirit was coming from. Better to ask forgiveness and all that. Plus it got rid of the chunk that Voldemort left behind which he was seeing as a major plus.

“I see,” Chief Arnok said, even though he quite clearly did not. No one called him on it even as more than a few gave him highly sceptical side-eyed glances. Specifically Pakku. “Very well. With this in mind, and in accordance with the desires of the Moon and Ocean Spirits, we will release you from our city. However, in order to protect ourselves, you will be blindfolded and removed far out of sight. We will provide you with water, food, a small ship, but after that, you will be at the mercy of the Ocean Spirit. Hopefully she will be as merciful as her brother.”

Harry breathed a quiet sigh of relief, awesome, they were letting him go and he didn’t actually have to do anything stupid to make it happen.

Wait.

“Ship?”

* * *

It was a canoe. It didn’t even have a sail. Which. Good? Because he wouldn’t know what to do with one if there even had been?

But still.

He stared at it, clutching the furlined bag he had been given before they tied a blindfold across his eyes and then put a bag over his head for the journey out. And because they used waterbending and took a lot of confusing turns and twists, he had no fucking clue where he was or what direction he was even facing because it was misty.

Pakku smirked down at him, “Well? What are you waiting for?”

“Someone to say ‘just kidding, we’re not really going to sentence you to a slow and painful death on your own in the middle of a frozen hellscape’,” he retorted flatly, hearing a few of the ‘stoic’ waterbenders behind him cough on well hidden laughs.

“Don’t be so melodramatic. Get in the boat so the rest of us can get on with our lives,” he demanded with a dismissive sniff. “Or I’ll just throw you overboard. Your choice.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst,” the teenager complained bitterly before gingerly climbing into the floating deathtrap, clinging to the sides with hands clenching so hard they hurt.

“Be thankful we’re being this kind,” the waterbender sneered before handing him an oar made of what looked like bone. “Spirits will it, we shall never meet again.”

Harry scowled as he took the oar, “I hope you treat your own people better than this,” he said, bracing it across his thighs. 

“Of course we do. But you’re not one of us, so I don’t see why it matters,” the old man said almost cheerfully before he gestured to the others and took up position at the prow of the ship. A moment later, they were all waterbending their way away into the mist. Mist that faded into nothing as soon as the sound of water and splashing faded away.

Leaving Harry in the middle of the ocean, alone.

“Well, fuck,” the Gryffindor concluded, looking around at the world he could see, which wasn’t an awful lot given how low down he was on his canoe, and how high up the rolling waves of the ocean were in comparison. He looked at the oar in his lap. At least they’d given him a means to get around, that way if he did see shore, he could actually get there without having to swim. And he could use it to hit anyone who tried to sneak up on him too.

**BEGIN TO PADDLE TO YOUR LEFT, THAT IS SOUTH,** Vaatu helpfully interjected, causing him to breathe a quiet sigh of relief as the spirit settled into silence as he began to paddle. Slowly. Because he knew that this was going to be rather physically intensive as they travelled, he focused on finding a comfortable rhythm and the best way to hold the paddle and sit. Focusing on the task at hand, finding land, rather than the fact he was in a foreign world and had the universe’s most out of date tour-guide stuck in his head. 

Vaatu nudged him a few times, only when it looked like he was going to go off course, by the time it was starting to get dark though, he was sweaty, tired, and in dire need of a rest. So he stopped and dug into the supply bags the Northerners had been kind enough to give him before they left him to die out here. There was a large enough barrel of fresh water that he wouldn’t have to worry for about a month, but the food left… rather a lot to be desired. Smoked fish, salted fish, salted meat, roasted blubber strips, and some kind of jar filled with pickled… sea weed? Or kelp? Some kind of rubbery looking green plant that he didn’t particularly want to put in his mouth.

He tiredly dug into some of the salted fish, steeling himself to eat the pickled green stuff as well and nearly gagging and throwing up at the  _ texture _ of it before managing to force it down his neck. And then washing the whole lot down with a cup of water before curling up under the fur blankets he had been given to sleep. 

He woke up aching like he’d gone four rounds with the Hungarian Horntail but drank some more water, forced himself to choke down the pickled kelp because he knew scurvy was a big problem and he was  _ assuming _ (hoping), that this stuff was the Water Tribe’s answer to the disease. Then he got back to rowing in the direction that Vaatu told him to. La, the Ocean Spirit, must have been looking out for him because he didn’t run into any bad weather or icebergs for the next three days worth of travelling - and he made a point of sacrificing one of his salted fish in gratitude. 

He practiced he summoning charm during the long stretches where his arms burned too much to even lift the oar to keep rowing, it was a very worthwhile endeavour because he was able to summon small edible fishies onto the ship which he proceeded to gut and roast with firebending (he had only needed to leave the guts in once before setting fire to it in order to never do so again). He also figured out how to heat water so, even though he was often a bit paranoid about bathing out in the open with absolutely no walls or anything, he hauled up a pot of water at least once every two days just so he could wash the funk of too much exercise off. And then wash his underclothes because they were practically  _ saturated _ with sweat by that point.

Of course, it would be this exact practice that got him into trouble.

He heard the other ship a long time before he saw it while in the middle of roasting his latest catch, the guts of it trailing off a line in the water to attract more. It was a blue decorated ship which Harry  _ figured _ meant Water Tribe, but there was something different about the way this one was built - if he were to hazard a guess, they probably sailed more via wind and current than any waterbending aid. The… bit that went under the water, that was a lot deeper than the one on Pakku’s ship, and there was more than just the one sail, they had a smaller triangle one at the back that looked like it could move.

He stood up and waved, more comfortable on the canoe now having been on there for over a week now. 

“Ahoy there!!” he shouted cheerfully as the ship began to slow and the men on deck came to the railing. “Can anyone tell me where we are?” he asked as they pulled up alongside his tiny little canoe.

The men exchanged unhappy, conflicted looks.

“You’re just a kid,” one of them complained.

Harry shrugged, “Didn’t stop those assholes from your tribe leaving me out here on this thing. You got any food that isn’t salted fish? I’ll trade ya?” he offered, holding up the fish he had just been roasting. 

“Our tribe?” one of the men demanded, almost offended.

“The people who live up near the North Pole, with Tui and La,” the Gryffindor told them, frowning a little uncertainly, “They didn’t want me to know exactly where they lived so they blind folded me and left me out here with the boat. Said that the Ocean would deal with me as she saw fit… you’re not a rival tribe or something are you? Because they were assholes and as much as I don’t like ‘em, I’m not too keen on anyone attacking them.” He  _ might _ be able to set their ship on fire. If he poured enough juice in and got close enough. It would likely give  _ him _ some nasty burns in the process though.

“We’re not going to attack our sister tribe. We’re from the Southern Water Tribe,” an authoritative male voice declared, several of the men at the railings shifting aside for a handsome man with brown skin, hair, and bright blue eyes to face him. “What is a firebender doing this far away from the fleet on his own?” 

Harry shrugged, “Uh, I don’t really know what fleet you’re talking about sir. My name’s Harry Potter, I came out of the Spirit Gate in the North Pole. Can you tell me where I am? And how far the nearest… town or port or island is?”

One of the men grabbed the new man’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear that had the man nodding slowly before looking down at him, “We’re currently heading to Yutien Port in the Northern Earth Kingdom, if you’d like to join us.” There was something weird about his facial expression for all of a moment as he sighed and shook his head, “You’re the same age as my son, why on earth would they leave you out here on your own?” he growled unhappily.

“They seemed scared of outsiders, maybe that’s it. People do dumb stuff when they’re scared,” he pointed out as a few of the other men threw ropes at him.

He frowned at them in confusion even as he fished one out.

“Tie it around the nose of your boat, and that one at the rear. We’ll throw a ladder down for you to climb up and then we’ll pull your canoe up,” one of the men called.

“Oh, nice. Thank you very much. Lemme just pull in my fishing line.”

He managed to get everything pulled in, packed up, and squared away quickly, there wasn’t enough space on the little boat to really make much of a mess without tripping on it so he had been careful. But still. He felt a bit nervous as he pulled the bags on and began to climb the ladder up onto the bigger ship.

“Where abouts in the Fire Nation are you from?” one of the men asked as he was pulled aboard.

“I’m not,” Harry admitted, “Never been to the… Fire Nation?” he admitted. Did they really name a country ‘Fire’? That was a bit… weird. “I was born in England.”

“...Eng Land?” the man echoed glancing to his friend.

“Sounds kinda Earth Kingdom-y to me,” he admitted with a small frown. “Could be a halfblood. S’hardly his fault. Would explain why he’s alone.”

“Both my parents are dead, a long time now. And they were quite happily married, I'll have you know,” he told them sharply with a wrinkled nose. “It’s on the otherside of the Spirit World. No where near the Earth Kingdom or Fire Country.”

“Fire Nation,” one of the men corrected absently, still staring at him as though he had another head. Harry frowned at him.

“Is there something wrong with the Fire Nation? You’re looking at me weird.”

Disbelieving splutters went up amongst the men, a few even dropped hands to their weapons, “What’s wrong with the Fire Nation the firebender asks? As if he doesn’t know?” he spat furiously.

“Stop,” the authoritative man commanded harshly. “He’s a child.”

“Like the Fire Nation have ever cared about age before. He’s a firebender,” he growled but took his hand off the weapon.

“Uh, if it makes you feel any better I’m not just a firebender. I can also waterbend a little?” he said, waving a hand and calling some water from the air itself to swirl around his fingertips. He had learned how to do it when a wave sprayed him and his furs with cold water and he was scared about freezing to death during the night - so sucked all of the wet out of them with waterbending. Kind of a bit like a weird summoning charm really, thinking about it. “Oh, but I’m not Raava’s host, the other multibender that was running around before me! I just got spirit blessings is all. I haven’t learned how to do anything but water and fire so far, and only a little bit of them.”

The authoritative guy took a deep breath, “Come down to my cabin, I think there’s some things our sister tribe have neglected to inform you of.”

* * *

A hundred year long war was a pretty big thing to forget to mention.

And of course the Fire Nation were the bad guys, because the bad guys were always throwing around fireballs for some reason. Not only that, but the other multi-bender, the Avatar, hadn’t been seen for just as long. Meaning that if he went around saying he was a multi-bender, people were going to put the responsibility of this war on his head and expect him to do something about it. 

“The only reason I’m buying your story is because for there to have been a firebender Avatar at this point, the Fire Nation would have had to have been successful in hunting down the air-avatar, water-avatar and then the earth-avatar before now, and managed to keep it quiet,” Hakoda, the War Chief of the allied Southern Water Tribes told him softly. “And we know for a fact that despite the genocide of the Air Nomads, the Fire Nation never found the air-avatar.”

Harry felt all the air leave his lungs in a rush, “She said there was only one left. That the world was so out of balance that she didn’t  _ dare _ give airbending to another child until it was righted,” he admitted faintly.

“She who?” Hakoda asked, frowning.

“The air lionturtle, she gave me the ability to airbend, but she said there was only one of her children left. Sleeping for now.” He opened his mouth to tell him that Vaatu said they were in the South Pole only to close it - if they knew where Raava’s host was, they would go and hunt them down and  _ force _ them to fight for them because it was their responsibility. That didn’t sit right with Harry. Fighting in a war should be a choice. He knew not everyone  _ got _ that choice, but where possible, they should have it.

“Harry, you’re going to have to keep this information quiet for your own safety in the future,” Hakoda warned him with a pained expression, “You’re still just a child but there are people out there in the world who would chew you up and spit you back out again without a single care if they thought they could get away with it. You keep saying you aren’t the avatar, but the only thing that separates the avatar from the common bender is the fact that they can use  _ all _ of the elements.”

“But if people were willing to get the blessings from the Lionturtles I’m sure they could too,” he pointed out before frowning and scratching at his ear, “Actually… maybe not. I know Raava is responsible for the reincarnation cycle the Avatar gets, she’s kind of jealous and clings to her hosts tightly even though it goes against the balance. But… unlike them, I was born as an energybender… maybe that’s the difference…” he mused quietly.

Vaatu said Raava had to do some… pretty horrible things to Wan in order to make his body adaptable enough for her to inhabit. Things he hadn’t had to do to Harry because he was a natural energybender and Voldemort had already made a pocket for him - all he had to do was forcibly eject the shard of his soul that remained. The Spirit had explained in a little more detail on the boat when Harry mused on whether or not he could communicate with a sea-serpent, only to learn that he was no longer a Parselmouth.

“Regardless, there are people who will try to kill you for being a firebender, and the firebenders will try to imprison you for any other kind of bending, or force you into their army if they catch you firebending,” Hakoda warned him solemnly. “You’re going to have a hell of a time finding someone to teach you firebending safely.”

Harry sighed, “No kidding. There’s a reason I was only happy to do it while surrounded by so much water, I’d still prefer to have some kind of shoreline within sight though, just in case,” he admitted with a small huff of amusement that the man was able to echo. “Thank you very much for telling me, Chief Hakoda,” he said formally with a deep bow, Water Tribe style, to the man. “I have nothing to give you in exchange… save for hot water and being a pretty good cook if I do say so myself actually,” he admitted straightening up with a grin.

He received an answering smile from the man, “I’m glad you’re willing, because no one gets a free ride on a Water Tribe ship. If you’re willing to work in the galley and provide hot water for washing and laundry, you’re  _ more _ than welcome on our ship.”

Harry beamed at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yue's a gem but she always struck me as having that little rebellious streak when it was really important. Otherwise she wouldn't have even spoken to Sokka or agreed to do an 'activity' with him. 
> 
> As for England and the Empire thing, yeah I'm not even going to try and defend my country. I did not specialise in History at school, it was an elective when I was in secondary school back in the early 00's. The atrocities we performed were not discussed, at all. The British Empire was an afterthought, mentioned, never explored. I'm told it wasn't even raised at college by friends who took it as an elective there. As for university, it depends on your teacher and what exactly you're looking into. But in this instance, Harry's education and mine are largely similar on the subject (I actually have the lead on him since I took three more years of it after junior school). I only really began to learn more about it when I moved in with my current group of housemates and ended up with Kyle, whose special interest is Historical Economics and Government, and Wolfie, who wears his colonialism on his face (he's got the most magnificent facial hair). And isn't that depressing? History is written (or in this case, NOT) by the victors.
> 
> Hakoda is best dad. (ngl, I kinda ship him with Piandao. Sword Dad/Boomerang Dad)


	4. Chapter 4

The Southern Water Tribe warriors were a lot friendlier than their Northern cousins.

It took a while for them to warm up to him but as soon as as it was announced that bathtime would be had with  _ hot _ water, he was everyone’s bestfriend. He had three adoption offers and two of the younger men asked if he would be willing to consider marriage once he’d become a man and earned his mark. Bato, Chief Hakoda’s second in command, chased those ones off with great amusement and exasperation.

It was hilarious, if a little surprising because - well, he’d known he was bi for a while but given Uncle Vernon’s general  _ everything _ , and Ron’s often tactless commentary about anything slightly out of the ordinary, Harry wasn’t too keen on having it be known. He was pretty sure Fred and George clocked his hopeless crush on Lee Jordan that lasted all of a month,  _ everyone _ on the Quidditch team noticed the ten minute crush he had on their Captain (except Wood thankfully) (it lasted ten minutes because that was when Harry walked into a wall and then Wood started barking at him about the snitch and damaging his eyes wasn’t allowed and some other stuff Harry forgot and both his brain and his hormones burnt out practically immediately). But the ease in which the people around him joked about it, referenced it, it was shocking.

Sleeping was done in piles in the galley, on fur rugs, and it was so familiar and warm like in Gryffindor Tower he had no problem going to sleep, often waking up whenever someone rolled over in their sleep and either flung an arm over him or kicked him in their sleep.

In the meanwhile, they helped him hash out his cover story in case anyone caught him firebending in the future and actually gave him a chance to explain - he was a colony child, his parents ran away together and were executed for it, he was hidden with his mother’s sister who hated him, and in order to escape them he accidentally wondered into the Spirit World where he lost a lot of his memories. He was born in the Earth Kingdom but he’s a firebender, and in order to control his bending he’s looking for a teacher so he doesn’t hurt anyone. At first they had been discussing that he went into the Spirit World before the war, but that would still mean he was Fire Nation, and for some people in the war, that was more than enough for a death sentence. Making him a colony child, born in the Earth Kingdom, from a couple who were genuinely in love rather than a… war union (the apparently polite way of referring to when soldiers raped civilian women), would make people hesitate more when it came to harming him. Everyone loved a good love story, Hakoda confided in him with a smirk, Bato rolling his eyes behind him muttering something.

Hakoda had… a very ‘Dad’ sense of humour according to the younger warriors. Harry, who had never known dad humour, actually found it pretty funny, much to Bato’s horror and embarrassment whenever his bestfriend let off one of his apparently terrible jokes and Harry couldn’t help but snort.

“See? Harry finds me funny! It  _ isn’t _ just Sokka,” the Chief proclaimed smugly, pointing at his friend with a grin one night as they ate fish soup.

“He’s a firebender, his taste is questionable at best,” the man retorted with a wink in Harry’s direction so he wouldn’t take offence.

“What does bending have to do with humour?” the youngest warrior Ruruk asked in a stage whisper, leaning over to Harry who shrugged.

“I think Bato’s jealous that we don’t find his jokes funny,” he stage whispered back.

Hakoda burst out laughing while Bato yelped in offence.

Port Yutien was a fairly busy Earth Kingdom port to the west of the Northern Air Temple, the presence of the Earth Kingdom army was pretty strong and Hakoda frowned unhappily at them as they docked. Harry wouldn’t have noticed in all honesty, not if the man hadn’t placed a hand on his shoulder and steered him back towards the ship.

“Doesn’t look like this is a port that will be particularly friendly,” he muttered, “I’m not too keen on just leaving you here so… your choice, Harry. You’re still a child, but you’re close enough to being a man that I think you should get a say,” the Chief explained.

Harry glanced down at the men in the weird green and khaki coloured uniforms, their tanned features, severe facial hair, and unfriendly faces. They sat astride strange looking ostrich like birds with large intimidating looking beaks, watching the comings and goings of the port with sharp eyes and humourless expressions. Hearing that there was a war on a ship with the Water Tribe was one thing, they felt almost like the DA with the way they wrestled and playfought one another, but this? This was like a wash of cold water, a punch to the stomach, a slap in the face. There was a war going on, and these men and women thought the conflict might very well happen here.

It they were this wary then… that meant the Fire nation probably had a navy (Which he really should have realised when the guys were questioning him about his ‘fleet’ before now), and they probably weren’t too far away. Hadn’t Hakoda just mentioned there was a Fire Nation Colony near-by?

Relatively speaking anyway.

He swallowed. 

He didn’t want to put the Water Tribe in danger.

“I think… I think this is where we should part,” he decided looking up at him, “You have your men to look after, the Earth Kingdom soldiers look nervous and you’ve mentioned a Colony nearby, which means there’s likely to be a risk of conflict here. If they find out you brought me here, it might put your people in danger. Not only that, but if I walk on my own, it’ll be less intimidating to them. Master Pakku could tell at a glance I wasn’t a bender just because my balance and posture were awful, I’m hoping that they’ll decide the same. Either way…” he rubbed his chin and looked down at the village, “I’ll probably need a green shirt and a map at the very least. How much is that canoe worth?” he asked peering up.

Hakoda snorted a little, “More than a shirt and a map, I can promise you.”

* * *

He sold his canoe to the Southern Water Tribe, getting enough money for a change of clothes, map, some food, and (he was suspicious about this) enough for a rather docile Ostrich-horse mare called Coco to carry him and his belongings to the next town over. Hakoda was either a better liar than Harry anticipated or it was a parent thing because the man didn’t even bat an eyelid at the suspicious frowns and narrow looks Harry threw him as they headed back towards the ship.

Bato seemed to find the whole thing amusing though so it probably  _ wasn’t _ as bad as Harry anticipated? Both men were nothing if not dedicated to making sure their brothers were well taken care of. Maybe they needed the canoe for going up-river or something and he’d done them a favour by selling it to them? Or maybe it would be good for getting between the ice flows in the North Pole. He didn’t know anything about sailing, so it made sense to give the canoe to those who could use it properly - and Harry would have  _ given _ it to them, but he was kind of in desperate need for some actual stuff here. 

Oh god. He just realised.

He’d never gone camping, or travelling, before in his life.

This was going to be a learning curve.

“So, how do I take care of an Ostrich-horse properly?” he asked as they began to pack up his things to release him into the wild, so to speak. So he got a quick crash course on how to take care of an ostrich-horse (it was pretty much the same as a hippogriff including raw meat and whatever birds and horses ate, though go light on the berries and nuts because as important as they are, too much was bad for the digestive system). He was also given information on how to handle the seasons with camping, currently it was Spring so here’s a checklist for setting up your camp to do it properly and safely, here’s another on how to take everything down complete with Bato’s sketches on how to fold everything away properly.

Harry took a deep breath and stowed them carefully in his water tribe jacket which was still by far the warmest thing he owned, and spring in the northern reaches of the Earth Kingdom was cold and frosty.

“Good luck finding yourself a teacher, Harry,” Hakoda told him gently, ruffling his hair which was still long and messy despite the man’s best efforts to teach him how to braid it back (apparently he had a daughter a bit younger than Harry and was well used to handling long hair). “Try to stay out of trouble.”

Oh yeah. Three weeks on a ship with him had introduced them to the Harry Potter School of What The Actual Fuck.

He blushed and smoothed his hair down, “It’s not my fault. Trouble always finds me, it isn’t like I go looking for it,” he complained pouting.

“Just… try not to somehow personally offend the Firelord within the next three weeks,” Bato begged only semi-jokingly as Harry scoffed in mock offence.

“No trust. No trust what so ever,” he grumbled as he hauled himself up onto Coco’s back, the ostrich-horse turning around to sniff and coo at him in a way that reminded him so much of Hedwig his chest clenched involuntarily. If his voice came out a little thicker, none of the warriors commented on it, even if their smiles softened, “Well, I’ll just take my things and go then! Unbelievable!” he huffed dramatically, nose in the air as several of them laughed at him. “Take care guys. Spirits watch over and guide you,” he intoned with a bow of his head.

“Take care, Harry. Hopefully we’ll see each other again,” Hakoda said, “I’ll introduce you to Sokka and Katara next time.”

He smiled, “I’d like that. Keep him out of trouble Bato.”

Hakoda huffed while his friend chuckled, “Will do.”

It felt strange to turn around and nudge Coco to a walk, leaving them behind at the dock. He wasn’t much sure he liked it in all honesty as he turned in his saddle and waved to them, the sea of hands that waved back only made him feel worse. But. Hakoda had a point, Harry did need to learn how to control his firebending, it would be his best defence here, a Master weapon wielder could go toe to toe with a bender, but it would be a hard fight. And the Weapon Master would go down very quickly against a Master Bender. It was a very unequal world he’d found himself stumbling into.

**WITHOUT THE BLESSINGS OF THE LIONTURTLES, ONLY THOSE WITH GREAT SPIRITUAL POWER CAN ATTAIN THE POWER TO BEND IN THIS WORLD,** Vaatu explained as they rode out of the village, nodding to the soldiers at the gate who eyed him a lot less aggressively than they had the previous day when they’d first seen him trotting along in Hakoda’s wake in the markets. Harry knew it was only because word had somehow gotten out that he was actually an Earth Kingdom child who had gotten lost, and the Water Tribe were making sure he could go home. It still felt uncomfortable to lie.  **RAAVA ALWAYS DID DISAPPROVE OF THE LIONTURTLES’ GENEROSITY.**

“What do you mean?” he asked, making Coco shake her head a coo a little until he patted her neck. At least the road was empty.

**SHE BELIEVED THAT ONLY HUMANS WHO HAD BEEN JUDGED WORTHY OF THE POWER SHOULD BE GIVEN IT. THE LIONTURTLES WOULD BLESS THEIR HUMANS WHENEVER THEY LEFT IN ORDER TO HUNT FOR FOOD AND WATER IN THE SPIRIT WILDS. WHEN THEY RETURNED, THEIR BENDING WOULD BE TAKEN FROM THEM. IT WOULD BE… AKIN TO BORROWING A WEAPON FROM THE ARMOURY WHEN YOU LEFT THE CASTLE WALLS, AND RETURNING IT ONCE YOU CAME BACK,** the spirit explained, an odd tickle in Harry’s mind telling him that the spirit had gone rummaging for a suitable comparison.  **RAAVA BELIEVED THAT ONLY THOSE HUMANS WHO HAD BEEN JUDGED WORTHY SHOULD HAVE THE WEAPONS THEY NEEDED TO DEFEND THEMSELVES OUT IN THE SPIRIT WILDS.**

“But if people went there without any ability to bend…” Harry said in dismay.

**YES. THEY WOULD DIE.**

The more he heard about Raava the less he liked her, but… he took a breath. She was the embodiment of light and justice and order as  _ well _ as death. He guessed that both she and Vaatu were the two extremes of their roles, uncompromising in their ideals. And with Avatar Wan’s own beliefs influencing her then she would be even more unreasonable, his emotions would cause her to become irrational.

Harry frowned, now worried, because his Occlumency wasn’t exactly the best. He didn’t want to poison Vaatu’s mind and he  _ knew _ that he too could be an unreasonable judgemental little prick.

He felt the spirit chuckle in his mind,  **IN THE SPIRIT REALM THERE WAS NO BLEED OVER, NO. BUT NOW THAT I OCCUPY A SPACE IN YOUR MIND, THERE HAS BEEN SOME SPILLOVER. NOT ENOUGH TO BE DANGEROUS OR DETRIMENTAL. IF YOU ARE ABLE TO PERFECT THE SEPARATION OF OUR MINDS THEN I WOULD BEG YOU TO TEACH IT TO RAAVA’S HOST AS WELL. I WOULD LIKE MY SISTER BACK, UNFETTERED BY MORTAL VALUES.**

“I’ll do what I can. When we stop tonight I’ll focus on the exercises Snape gave me, and the bits that Hermione dug up for me too,” he promised. Blocking his mind from Voldemort had been tedious and with Snape battering his way into his mind, downright impossible - sure, tell him to clear his mind and then do everything in his power to piss him off and drag out traumatic memories to  _ burn _ his fucking brain with. That’s great teaching right there. But this? This was to keep Vaatu sane, it was to protect Vaatu  _ from Harry _ . For that alone, he would work on it until it happened. 

* * *

It took two weeks to get to the next actual town which was apparently a Fire Nation Colony. It would have taken a lot longer, Harry knew, if he hadn’t gotten lucky a week prior and run into what was less of a town and more of a Fire Nation outpost who didn’t take too kindly to some kid in Water Tribe blues and Earth Kingdom greens coming over. Harry told his story about getting lost in the spirit world and not knowing where he was, and demonstrated his firebending for good measure. When he mentioned looking for a firebending teacher because he had never actually learned and didn’t want to cause any uncontrolled destruction, he was led onto a warship that was going on a supply run to the nearest colony. There would be an army outpost there where he could sign up and be taught how to firebend and serve his country at the same time - Harry didn’t say anything about joining the Fire Nation navy or army, but kept his mouth shut about that little bit.

Thankfully the soldiers had better things to do than frog march him to the recruitment office when they hit port and Harry was free to ride Coco off into the town proper. His attire got a lot of stares and a few local soldiers challenged him but let him go quickly enough when he showed his rather sorry firebending with a sheepish expression. No one seemed to want to get too close to him when he admitted to falling out of the Spirit World in the North Pole though, hence why he was in Water Tribe furs, he stole them from a shipwreck.

Unfortunately he didn’t really have the money to get  _ another _ wardrobe change, and anyway, the furs were lovely and warm, so he was kind of loath to give them up. 

“Let’s get you a drink at the fountain, Coco, and then we’ll look for somewhere to sleep. How does that sound?” he cooed to the animal as he led her through the streets, reins in hand, because riding in a populated area seemed a bit rude to his English sensibilities when there wasn’t a clearly defined road. He’d seen horse riders in London, but they were police officers working, in Surrey unless they were riding  _ on _ the road then they were leading their horses on foot down the pavements.

Unfortunately, nowhere seemed to be willing to take him for the night so he was forced to leave the town and look for a suitably good spot to set up camp. 

He’d just found a good spot and begun to unload Coco when he heard raised voices.

“I AM PERFECTLY CALM!!” a young man’s voice roared, even as Harry caught sight of a bright burst of fire light through the trees.

He snorted a little in amusement. “Yeah, so calm you’re breathing fire.”

Fire -  _ firebending! _

He dropped Coco’s saddle, taking a moment to make sure her feed was laid out for her before slipping into the bushes and creeping down into a small valley where he could see an old chubby guy with silver hair and a pointy beard, and a young man with a shaved head save for a single ponytail, and a  _ horrible _ burn across one eye. It looked almost like a  _ handprint _ . Both of them wore Fire Nation reds, but not the familiar uniforms of the army. 

He slid silently down the hill on his butt, and crawled behind a few bushes, putting his back to a tree and peering through a gap in the leaves to watch the two argue. Or rather, the older man lecture, and the younger one shout angrily at the old guy.

“-ber your  _ breathing! _ ” the old man commanded, “The force of your blows is not the strength of your fire. The energy of your  _ breath _ gives it power! Again!” he called, tucking his hands into his sleeves and frowning as the scarred young man growled, huffing embers from between his lips as he turned around and dropped into some kind of Kung Fu stance, palms outstretched with his thumb curled in, and his knees bent.

Harry watched in fascination as the other teenager began to move through a bunch of almost yoga like stretches combined with punches and kicks, each one thrust out explosively from the body with a curl of fire at the tip as if he were trying to throw it away from himself as quickly as possible before it burnt him. It was… uh,  _ something _ , to watch. The other teenager’s clothing was pretty loose but those movements pulled against the full range of motion available to him and… yeah… holy shit he was built. No wonder everyone could tell at a glance Harry wasn’t a bender. Bending looked pretty physical and he was… he was a scrawny speccy little git. A Seeker, not a Beater. 

He couldn’t help the slight flinch and twitch backwards when a kick sent a wave of fire a little too close to his hiding place, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut against the wash of hot air.

He wasn’t expecting a hand to suddenly scruff him by the back of his coat and physically pick him up and throw him into the clearing where he landed quite harshly on his back with a yelp.

“- Water Tribe spy!” the angry kid bellowed.

Harry coughed and held a hand up, setting it on fire, “Not - not Water Tribe!” he wheezed.

“But - you’re wearing their colours!” the angry boy snarled, smouldering fist held aloft and pointed at him.

Harry wheezed and dragged a deep breath in as he snuffed his hand out and decided against moving, “That’s because I just escaped the North Pole, and their furs are really damn warm,” he explained with a small huff at the scarred boy, grimacing as he shifted, “You’re a lot stronger than you look. I think I bruised my butt.”

“Are you alright, young man?” the old guy asked, making his way forward, hands tucked peacefully into his sleeves, looking for all the world thoroughly amused by the sheer dumbassery happening in front of him.

Harry snorted and grinned at him, “I’ll live. Maybe.” He rolled his head to the angry boy, “Can I get up now? Without getting my face b-” he quickly cut himself off, “beaten?”

They definitely caught his near-miss, but the angry boy straightened up with a truly magnificent scowl on his face, “Who are you?” he demanded harshly, “Why were you spying on us?”

He pushed himself upright and then laboriously climbed to his feet, rubbing his backside in pain. Riding Coco for several hours and then getting thrown pretty harshly on it had not done his bony little ass any favours. Maybe he would take a day or two off from riding and just walk with Coco instead?

“No where in the town had any space, so I was setting up camp up the hill when I heard you training,” he explained as he turned around to face the two, the younger one scowling at a distant tree while the old guy merely smiled at him. “You’re the first firebenders I’ve ever met, so I wanted to watch, pick some stuff up.”

The old guy stroked his chin, “But you are a firebender yourself.”

He nodded, “I am. But I grew up with my Aunt and Uncle and they hate benders. Then I ended up in the Spirit World and - that was apparently a really long time ago because I have no idea what’s going on anymore,” he admitted with a nervous laugh. “The Water Tribe were pretty friendly people when I knew them but… that’s uh, not the case anymore. I got lucky with the coat otherwise I’d have probably died up in the North Pole for sure. My home isn’t even on the map anymore so… I think I’ve been gone for a long time…”

He trailed off as the old man began to circle him and the younger one stopped scowling at him for a moment, looking worried.

“You were in the Spirit World?” he asked with something very much like concern in his voice.

Harry nodded, “Weird place. It was pretty scary sometimes, or, it might have been if I hadn’t been completely out of it. I couldn’t feel any emotions while I was there,” he admitted, twitching slightly when the old man grasped his arm and began to feel at his biceps. “Hello? Can I help you, sir?” he found himself asking in bewildered amusement.

“You are as thin as a half starved fire ferret, and certainly do not have the muscle of a bender,” the man concluded slowly with concern, “Have you been eating enough recently?”

The Gryffindor snorted, “More recently than when I lived with my family. It’s fine. I just wanted to watch you bend,” he assured them grinning at the boy, “Can you show me some? I promise I won’t get in the way.”

The old man smiled at the younger, “Why don’t you show the boy some basics, Zuko? It will do you both some good, I think,” he decided cheerfully.

“Uncle! I don’t have  _ time _ to play with a peasant novice!” Angry Boy snarled, gesturing angrily at Harry - accidentally clipping him in the nose in the process, and flinging his glasses away.

He yelped stepping backwards.

“Zuko!” his Uncle scolded.

“I didn’t mean - why were you standing so closely?!” Zuko, the angry boy, yelled at him scowling in frustrated guilt and upset.

Harry rubbed his nose and sniffed, damn that stung, “I didn’t realise you were going to be so -  _ flaily _ ,” he admitted before looking around for where his glasses had been flung. “I’ll stay out of arm's reach next time.”

The teenager growled wordlessly, stomping past him and snatching something up from the floor, likely his glasses, which it was he realised when the angry teenager thrust them back at him, “I’m - sorry I hit you. I didn’t mean to,” he growled furiously.

“No harm done,” Harry assured him as he collected his glasses and held them up to the sun to make sure they weren’t scratched before cleaning them off and putting them back on. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of the old man gesturing pointedly towards him while the younger looked conflicted and guilty before sighing and slumping in place. Oh. Well, he felt a bit bad, but if asking nicely didn’t get him bending lessons then guilt worked well enough.

“Take that ridiculous coat off, I’ll show you the first set,” Zuko grumbled quietly, avoiding eye contact.

He smiled at them and bowed the way the Princess’ memories told him the Fire Nation were supposed to, “Thank you. I’m Harry, nice to meet you.”

“I am Iroh, but you can just call me Uncle,” the old man grinned at him chortling merrily, “This is Zuko, my beloved nephew,” he explained, and Harry watched with amusement as the teenager flushed and scowled, hunching up and folding his arms and glaring at a distant tree. Embarrassed.

He chuckled a little and pulled his coat off, pushing his green sleeves up.

Zuko frowned at him, “Do you not have  _ any _ Fire Nation colours?” he asked almost plaintively.

Harry shrugged, “I didn’t really have any money, and wearing red while sneaking around the Earth Kingdom didn’t seem too bright given the whole… war thing, apparently.”

“Apparently,” Zuko muttered, sounding uncomfortable before he shook himself and took a deep breath. “You’ll need to learn the horse stance first of all, like this,” he lectured, squatting into position and watching as the boy tried to do the same, “Deepen it. Lower.” He could see the other teenager’s legs shake a little as he frowned in concentration, “If you’re not used to it then it’ll probably be hard. But this is the root of firebending. You must be anchored or you will be blown away by your own power. Stand firm, and breathe. Fire is living. It breathes with you. You need to fan the flame within you before you can wield it. Breathe in… two… three… four… out… two… three… four… in… two… three… four…” he lectured,  _ golden _ eyes narrowed on his legs.

It was hard.

Harry felt like his leg muscles were going to rip themselves a lot sooner than he would have liked, but he continued breathing in the pattern he was told, having to squeeze his eyes shut eventually and focus on the wall between his mind and Vaatu’s like he had taken to doing every night. Trying to blank his mind. He’d noticed that it had the added benefit of making him forget whatever was happening to his body - he’d had the world’s most godawful itch between his toes but hadn’t wanted to take his boot off because of the cold, so he’d meditated on maintaining Vaatu’s protection. It helped him to forget it was there. But as soon as he came out of it he’d ended up clawing his boot off and scratching his foot bright red in desperation.

He only came out of it when his back hit the ground and  _ pain _ flowed from both legs.

“Ooow, ow, ow, ow! You weren’t kidding about that hurting,” he complained stiffly, squeezing his legs together and curling up around them.

“You managed over half an hour,” the firebender told him, “Not good enough! Get back up and into your stance!” he barked.

Harry nodded, gingerly getting back up, or trying to. His thighs didn’t want to cooperate. “I’ll - give me a second to stretch, or I’ll fall on my face.”

“No! Horse Stance! Now!” Zuko bellowed in his face.

Harry made a show of wiping non-existent spittle off, gratified to see a tinge of pink flush the other boy’s face, “Could you please not shout in my face? My ears work fine even if my legs don’t right now,” he requested, kneading at his thighs and forcing himself to stand up. He took a few small steps in place, getting the blood pumping again before grimacing in pain as he lowered himself into the demanded stance again. 

Zuko scoffed angrily, “You’re weak.”

He snorted on a laugh, “Well yeah. Of course. I’m a beginner!” he pointed out, much to the scarred boy’s shock. “I’ve never learned any kind of bending or martial art before, like hell my Aunt or Uncle would let me learn how to defend myself.” Maybe it was the fact that there was absolutely no chance of these people ever being able to meet Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia, or the fact that nothing Harry said  _ here _ would impact him back home, but it was just so easy to admit they were horrible to him here. 

The teenager scowled and bared his teeth, “Show me your flame. Make it as big and hot as you can!” he commanded.

Well that was easy enough.

He took three deep breaths, remembering how it felt to feel the sun soak into his bones, hot summer days at Hogwarts beside the lake with Ron and Hermione, flying in quidditch practice and being blinded, phoenix flame and dragon fire. It wasn’t going to be big, he knew that already, he didn’t know how to make it bigger, but heat, that he could do - the fire he burned from his outstretched hand was white.

“Spirit fire,” Iroh observed in fascination.

Zuko didn’t say anything, his expression complicated.

Harry didn’t correct the old man either. His fire was white because it was concentrated and welding torch hot. It must have been pretty uncommon to be able to get to that kind of temperature if their first thought was spirit fire which… weren’t willowisps blue? Or green? He let the flame go and fell forward to his hands and knees with a groan.

“How did you fall into the Spirit World?” Zuko asked slowly.

Oh shit, this wasn’t something he’d discussed with the Water Tribe guys, they’d just… kinda glossed over that little bit.

“I was chased in, kinda. Weirdos in black robes with masks. There was so much smoke I didn’t really get a good look at them,” he admitted, hoping they would leave it be or think it was some weirdo cult now extinct.

Instead, both Zuko and Iroh looked alarmed, “Kemurikage! The Child Stealers!” Zuko exclaimed in horror. “Where did it happen?!”

Harry shifted away from him, “I told you, it - it doesn’t exist anymore. I couldn’t find hide or hair of it on the map I got,” he deflected, hands up in surrender as the teenager stormed over, and then froze, hand outstretched to grab him.

“Do you - not have  _ anywhere _ to go?!” he demanded.

Harry peered up at him, “Not - really?”

“Then come with us,” Iroh chimed in cheerfully.

Zuko whipped around, “Uncle!”

The man only chuckled, “I’m sure we have room for one more on the ship. Isn’t the room next to yours empty, nephew? Someone your own age will be much better company than an old man and a bunch of soldiers,” he pointed out with a kindly smile down at Harry who twitched a half-smile at him, glancing nervously at the shouty angry boy before shrugging and deciding to roll with it. 

“I’m a pretty good cook and I don’t mind working if it helps you any?” he suggested lightly as he got to his feet and brushed himself off.

“FINE!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to keep Zuko as true to his Book 1 characterisation as possible, so bitter, loud, aggressive, accusatory, etc, etc, so that he can get some of that redemption arc in early, and because I have plans for making Aang's life difficult further down the road.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry paused as Zuko and Iroh led him into the docks and towards… a small Fire Nation naval ship. He blinked at it in confusion and looked around, he saw the ship he came in on and several of the soldiers that he had gotten to know looked back at him, looked at Iroh and Zuko, and then quickly looked away again. He didn’t get any bad vibes from either Iroh or Zuko the way that he had several of the other Fire Nation soldiers on the bigger ship but… there was something going on here that he didn’t know about.

“We can get Coco settled down in the hold, and then we’ll show you to your room upstairs,” Iroh told him as he came to a stop at the top of the gangplank.

The Gryffindor nodded slowly, looking around the top deck with some confusion and dismay. Hakoda’s ships had been neatly maintained, but there was no denying that it had a busy deck, there were rigging lines and water barrels and spare sailcloth and fishing equipment as well. The painfully bare and empty deck of Iroh’s ship was… unsettling in comparison. 

“Ugh! Hurry up!” Zuko yelled, making Coco squawk and shy away from him, bumping Harry to the point where he stumbled backwards. Zuko yelled again, lunging forward and grabbing his arm, hauling him forward before he went overboard into the ocean.

Coco squawked angrily and pecked at him.

“Ow! Ow ow! KNOCK IT OFF!” he yelled, trying to shield his head from her angry beak, even as he turned his body towards her and pushed Harry at Iroh. 

It was a bit of a debacle getting everyone sorted, Coco absolutely did  _ not _ like Zuko. Or rather, she did not like his shouting, either at Harry or herself. Iroh seemed to find the ornery bird quite entertaining and made no move to assist his nephew in defending himself from her, and to Harry’s relief the scarred young man didn’t seem particularly inclined to attack her in retaliation. He scowled and yelped and tried to pull away, but he never raised a hand or summoned a flame - otherwise Harry might have had to see how fire-proof a firebender actually was. Which would have been unfortunate for everyone involved.

The room they showed him to was a bare metal box with a tiny slit window, it was empty save for a rather large number of boxes that had Zuko whirling around to growl at his uncle who lit up in delight to see them. 

“I had wondered where I put these,” he declared happily, “I will have them taken to my room and a bed sent up for you, Harry. Perhaps Zuko can give you a tour of the ship in the meantime?” he suggested leadingly, giving his nephew a look.

Zuko growled in frustration, “Argh, fine. Better than you getting lost and bothering the crew. Follow me,” he growled, marching away from the room in question. He led Harry through the ship, pointing out what each room was, what it did, and then telling him not to go into the majority of them. They passed a few people and he grunted their names and roles on the ship before introducing Harry as his new student - the looks of astonishment and then discomfort when Harry smiled and waved and greeted them cheerfully were both concerning but also amusing. He guessed Zuko was a shouty sour-puss all the time then and his crew were wondering what the hell was going on, and why he was even there.

...or more likely it was the fact he was in his Water Tribe blues.

Zuko watched as he began to unpack now that his room had a bed and a small low table and sea-chest in it, golden eyes flicking across his Water Tribe clothing, the Earth Kingdom greens, and his single Fire Nation red t-shirt that was much faded and rather sorry looking after years of belonging to Dudley and then himself.

“Is this all you have?” the young man demanded sharply.

Harry glanced at him with a wry smile, “Pretty much. It could be worse,” he said cheerfully as he began to unroll the furs he had been given onto his bed along with the blanket he had been given by Iroh. One length of fur went onto the floor because he didn’t particularly want to find out how cold a metal floor could be this far north first thing in the morning.

“How could it be worse?!!” Zuko demanded.

“I could have nothing,” he pointed out, smirking a little at the scarred boy. “I might still be in the North Pole wearing only this,” he declared holding up his red t-shirt before snorting slightly, “At which point I would most  _ definitely _ be dead.”

**IT IS NOT LIKE I KNEW,** Vaatu grumbled in the back of his head, making Harry chuckle a little.

“Wait here,” Zuko commanded, storming out of the room which - where else would he go right this second? Harry shook his head in a mixture of amusement and annoyance as he continued to unpack.

He had just finished putting his clothes away in the sea chest when he came back, his arms full of black, red, and gold cloth that he unceremoniously shoved at him.

“Here.”

Harry spluttered, there was  _ silk _ in there and that was - “I can’t afford this!” he yelped trying to push it back.

“NO STUDENT OF MINE IS WALKING AROUND IN RAGS!!” Zuko roared, shoving them into him hard enough that he stumbled backwards. His face was stricken for all of a heartbeat, as if he hadn’t intended to be so forceful but then he was back to scowling angrily. 

“But - I like my furs,” he objected weakly, surprised by how  _ heavy _ the clothing in his arms was, “They’re warm.”

Zuko scowled and began to grab at the silks in his arms, yanking them out and throwing them onto his bed, “You’re  _ MY _ student! The student of a Prince should look the part or it brings  _ Shame _ on the Royal Family!”

Harry spluttered, “P-Prince?!! These are - these are  _ way _ too expensive for me, Zuk- Prince Zuko!”

“ARE YOU SAYING I CAN’T PROVIDE FOR MY OWN STUDENT?!!” he bellowed, embers and smoke huffing from his mouth as he got into Harry’s face.

“Geez! Alright, fine!” the Gryffindor exclaimed, throwing the armful of clothing he was still holding down onto the bed and grabbing the hem of his Earth Kingdom robe, pulling it up and off.

Zuko choked and fled the room.

* * *

What was he doing? What was he  _ thinking?! _

Taking in some… some  _ peasant _ who was spying on him in the woods!

Why was Uncle encouraging this? 

Why had he agreed to this?!

He should throw the filthy boy overboard! He was nothing more than a distraction from his hunt for the Avatar and a waste of time that he could spend bettering himself as a bender.

What did it matter that the filthy peasant looked at him hopefully with bright eyes and a kind smile, the first he had seen that hadn’t been from Uncle since he was banished? So what if he had the same smile as - as his mother… the smile he remembered from when Azula was small, when their family was happy. He hadn’t seen it in so long. It was the one she wore when she splashed him at the beach on Ember Island, when she held a finger to her lips and buried his sleeping father in sand, Azula laughing and giggling so loudly that the man  _ had _ to have been faking his slumber as they did so.

He grit his teeth, feeling his blood beginning to simmer. How dare that peasant remind him of those days? Have  _ her _ smile! He didn’t deserve any of it, not even the second hand rags and dusty old uniform that he had long out-grown.

“For a prince, you sure have a temper problem,” the peasant complained fearlessly as he stepped out of Zuko’s storeroom, pulling at the collar of his uniform.

Indignation lit up inside him, “I DO NOT HAVE A - ” the words died on his tongue as he whirled around and froze at the sight of the peasant boy in black and red, wearing the colours of the nation he belonged to, those jewel bright green eyes framed in gold spectacles and obsidian black hair.

He swallowed his tongue and tore his eyes away, staring was unbecoming of Royalty.

“I don’t have a temper problem,” he muttered, feeling his face burn with embarrassment.

He caught the flat look he received and felt a twist of shame in the pit of his stomach, so familiar and easily identifiable even if the reason for it was a mystery to him. Why should he be ashamed of his anger? It was the source of his fire, his strength as a firebender, it was the fuel that kept him warm, kept him focused and motivated on capturing the Avatar. He didn’t have the talent or the drive of Azula or father without it, he was weak, and he used it as a crutch. His anger protected him and gave him strength. What would some peasant boy lost in the Spirit World know of him, or firebending? Nothing. That was why he was even  _ there _ , to learn firebending.

“Hey, are you alright?” the peasant asked gently, hand hovering at his arm, not quite touching, unsure if it was welcome, looking so damn concerned that Zuko felt heat beginning to prickle across the back of his neck and ears.

“I’m fine!” he shouted, “Hurry up to the deck, I’m teaching you your first kata!” he roared, wrenching his arm away before the peasant could actually touch him and stormed to the stairs.

He was going to regret this, he could tell.

The main deck was empty and sunset was beginning to colour the horizon shades of red and gold, he could see the large warship on its supply run at the other end of the port and remembered how several of the soldiers had looked scornfully at him and then at the peasant boy with disgust. Anger ignited low and hot in the pit of his stomach as he marched out and waited for his student to join him. 

He was small, thin,  _ runty _ . Father wouldn’t have even given him the time of day to drown him if he had been an animal, just thrown him off the nearest balcony and let nature run its course. But there was something very sharp in those green eyes, and then there was that white fire. Uncle had been too far away to feel the heat of it, but Zuko had been close enough to begin to sweat in his silks, had physically heard the seething hiss of energy. For all that he wasn’t an accomplished or even a trained bender, that he was able to concentrate his flame to produce  _ white _ fire… jealousy was an ugly emotion, but it was one Zuko was familiar with. Azula was born lucky, he was lucky to be born. And now there was an unwashed peasant with white fire far eclipsing  _ both _ of them. 

Well, Zuko was going to train him. This boy was going to be  _ his _ student, and when he returned to the Fire Nation with the Avatar, with his honour, and retook his throne,  _ his _ student would be known as one of the most powerful benders in their nation. And his loyalty would be to Zuko alone. His Master. And nothing his sister said or did would be able to change that simple fact. That Zuko had been the one to teach him how to harness that white fire.

“Get into your horse stance,” he commanded, watching as the boy grimaced a little but did as he was told, even though no doubt his legs were aching something fierce from activity he wasn’t used to. He could see the boy’s thighs quivering beneath his uniform and how he pressed his lips together tightly against the pain. Stubborn. That was good. He could work with that. “We will begin with the Fire Claws of the Dragon, the very basis of firebending, the root of all your future katas and stances. Watch carefully,” he commanded shortly.

The Five Claws were the five beginner stances that he was going to be teaching him, the horse stance was the third claw, but it was also the one that gave him the biggest indication of his new student’s stamina, flexibility, and mindset. It was the most physically demanding of them in his opinion, and he had some very unfond memories of tutors in the past forcing him into the stance while balancing burning cups of oil on his shoulders, thighs, and head. If he fell, the oil would splash and burn him. Thankfully, the one time he did fall, one of his mother’s servants had lightning reflexes enough to yank him out of danger before screaming furiously at his tutor - he had never seen anyone stand up to his teachers and never did again. She vanished from the palace the next day, and so did that teacher.

First Claw, standing with the fists drawn into the ribs, elbows back, spine straight, legs apart, shoulders down. The first stance.

Second Claw, the chop kick, one foot swept out, fist clenched above the ankle, the other leg bent - knee no further forward than the foot, facing towards the outstretched foot.

Third Claw, legs bent in perfect right angles, thighs in a straight line from one knee to the next, feet slightly turned outward, fists once again resting at the ribcage as with the first claw.

Fourth Claw, the resting stance, a crouch with both legs beneath the body, one knee lowered below the other but not touching the ground, one fist drawn back against the waist, the other outstretched to bend or block an attack.

And lastly, the Fifth Claw, similar to the second but opposed, one leg stretched out behind, the other bent forward with the knee no further than the foot, one hand drawn to the ribs, the other curled level with the shoulder to defend.

“These are the hands and feet of firebending, the root, the dragon’s claw,” Zuko explained as he ran through the stances again, this time allowing small curls of firebending to light up the deck as an example to his student of how they could be employed offensively, or defensively.

“I - they look amazing, but I don’t think I’m flexible enough for it just yet,” his student admitted hesitantly, sweat glistening on his forehead as he stubbornly maintained his horse stance, shaking violently with the strain. Even his voice was strained.

He did say he was an absolute beginner.

Zuko growled in frustration, perhaps… he should look into teaching him the stretches he learned as a child first? The very idea made something sour churn in the pit of his stomach. The last time he performed those stretches with  _ anyone _ was when he was a child with his mother, they were teaching them to Azula who kept falling over and giggling and ripping up chunks of grass to throw into the air. Those memories were… probably the closest thing he had to sacred. Them and those sun soaked days on Ember Island when he felt  _ loved _ . Valued.

But… they were just kid stretches. 

Pretty much every child in the Fire Nation grew up doing them every morning with the rising sun, no one was born knowing they were a firebender, so everyone learned them all the same. He knew for a fact that Uncle continued to perform them every morning with the rising sun before breakfast, he invited Zuko to join him repeatedly, saying it was good for the blood flow and the skin to greet the day in such a fashion. If he was going to teach Harry to the best of his ability, then he was going to have to get back in the habit - or risk his student being poached by his Uncle.

“Urgh,  _ fine! _ I’ll show you the  _ baby stretches _ ,” he growled out waving the boy down from his horse stance and scowling at the setting sun when he heard the unmistakable sound of him collapsing. But even he winced a little at the sound of the peasant boy’s joints popping unhappily. 

...maybe forcing him into that stance for so long his first time had been a bad idea?

He waited with ill patience for the peasant boy to find his feet and rub some of the pain from his legs and stomach before leading him through several of the childrens’ stretches he had been taught. He was an attentive student, Zuko would give him that, clearly used to learning so likely to have been educated properly - he knew from his time beyond the borders that this was one area where the Fire Nation excelled, every single one of their citizens was educated, could read and write, and knew the history of their glorious country. He often wondered why the Earth Kingdom was so against their efforts to share this with them, they had such a huge country that it was  _ obvious _ that the governments and royals in charge were growing fat on the work of the common people without thinking to take care of them. Their children ran barefoot, hungry, and ignorant through the streets of filthy villages with disease lurking in every dark fetid corner. And yet when the Fire Nation brought industry, economy,  _ education _ , to them, they were greeted with hostilities and anger. 

He blinked back to himself and reached out, “You’re over extending yourself,” he grunted to his student as he rearranged the peasant boy’s limbs so he wouldn’t end up tripping over himself or pulling something. “If you lean too far on that stance, you won’t have the strength to shift into the next and you’ll fall,” he explained distantly. He could understand the aggression of the Water Tribes, they had been close allies of the Air Nomads, and water and fire had always been opposed to one another, his father said that the uncivilised savages needed only the flimsiest of excuses to draw blades on their country.

“Right,” the peasant muttered, shifting his weight, “Like this?” he asked, drawing Zuko’s attention to his footing.

“Yes,” he agreed with a nod, “Go through the stretches again with the breathing exercises, yes, exactly like that.”

Perhaps that was the problem? The Water Tribes ruled the oceans (had,  _ had _ , ruled the oceans, that was now the purview of the Fire Nation, and they had proved to be superior at it as well), and in the yesteryears carried trade all across the four nations. They were obviously carrying their biased views along with them to every port and town, poisoning the uneducated Earth Kingdom citizens with misinformation. And because they couldn’t read, it wasn’t as though they knew better, or could access the information freely distributed by the Fire Nation. Perhaps… when he returned to his rightful place he would make a point of ensuring that there were buskers in their new territories, at least until an education system was set up, Uncle had mentioned it in letters a while ago, apparently the Earth Kingdom didn’t have announcement boards, but rather men and women who would stand and shout the news and announcements from the nobility for the common people who couldn’t read to learn of them. It sounded like a system far too ripe for misuse to Zuko’s embittered mind, and it clearly was being so if the people of the Earth Kingdom were rejecting the Fire Nation so stringently when they’d done nothing but help so far.

He watched absently as his student finished the stretches, moving much more smoothly and easily than before, there was a slight flush to his face, but his eyes were bright with concentration as he moved from stretch to stretch, extending himself more and more with each one. Limbering up. Zuko nodded as he watched, starting slow was the correct choice.

He resigned himself to spending his dawns stretching with his Uncle and his student instead of meditating in his room.

“Good. Now, the Five Claws. Don’t even try bending, just breathe and move,” he ordered folding his arms like he’d seen Uncle do many times during his own training as he stood back to watch. 

The peasant boy was more flexible than he had been before, but he still couldn’t fully commit to each of the claws, if Zuko could describe it as anything, it was like the claw was stiff and cramped. More stretching and limbering would be needed before he could fully sink into them. Still, for a single lesson, he was doing well.

He felt a sharp sting of pride.

_ He _ taught the peasant boy how to do that. No it wasn’t perfect, but it would be eventually.

“Again. Follow me,” he commanded, standing beside him and leading him through the Five Claws one last time as the sun began to sink below the horizon and a cold wind swept up across the deck to chill sweat damp skin. The air was filled with the sound of the ocean’s waves, breathing in time with them as they flowed from stance to stance, the air crisp and sharp, steam spilling out from between their lips in pale clouds of not-quite-smoke as they moved in sync, smoothly.

“Zuko! Harry! It is time for dinner, won’t you join us in the galley?” Uncle called, interrupting the almost peaceful near-hypnotic atmosphere.

Zuko jerked, his inner-peace thoroughly shattered, “UNCLE CAN’T YOU SEE WE’RE BUSY?!!” he roared, waving his fists furiously at the old fool.

“But Zuko, you don’t want your roasted duck to get cold, do you?” the old Fire Nation General asked almost plaintively, pulling that  _ face _ , the annoying one where his eyes got all big and shiny and helpless and his mouth downturned and puckered slightly. 

He growled angrily only to find his scathing words dying on the tip of his tongue as his student started laughing at them. Bright and lively, unlike his Uncle’s full belly chuckles and chortles, unlike the cook’s nasty little giggle whenever Zuko made a fool of himself. And he found himself scowling and looking away, folding his arms.

“Alright fine,” he growled irritably, “But only because we’re done for the day! Don’t expect to get off so easily tomorrow,” he added sharply, pointing at the peasant boy who snickered, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Yes, Professor.”

* * *

Dinner was not spent with the crew, to Harry’s surprise. There seemed to be a very clear-cut hierarchy between the crew and both Zuko and his Uncle, now including him he realised as he was towed into a red decorated room filled with candles and only a single low table set for three. They’d left the deck and gone to clean up in the shower rooms which thankfully had functional plumbing, Harry had forcibly kept his eyes to himself with the strict practice of a boarding school boy who didn’t want to get the shit kicked out of him for ogling his dorm-mates, but it was surprisingly difficult. He didn’t know people his age could get biceps like that, or  _ thighs _ . 

He had been struggling with the mass of wet hair he was still unused to in his room when the angry teenager practically barged in and scoffed to see him still not ready. A moment later several pieces of clothing were being launched at him with a command to get dressed and stop playing with his hair. Iroh’s amusement when he poked his head in a few minutes later to find him with a comb stuck in it trying to pick out a few broken teeth from an unsightly tangle was a little embarrassing but the man was good humoured as he liberated Harry from the mess of his own making. Between the two of them, and following the old man’s kindly suggestions, his hair was tamed and pulled back into a ponytail where it wouldn’t trail in his food, before he was steered to dinner.

“WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG?!!” Zuko bellowed as soon as they walked in, seething furiously, both arms and legs folded as he sulked at the dinner table.

Iroh tutted quietly as he guided Harry to a cushion specifically for him, “One moment of patience, Prince Zuko, may ward off  _ great _ disaster. One moment of  _ im _ patience, may ruin a great  _ dinner! _ ” he exclaimed, chuckling as he sat down in his own place.

“THIS ISN’T THE TIME FOR PROVERBS!” the boy roared, spitting sparks.

Iroh nodded solemnly, “No, you are quite right. Now is the time for roasted duck,” he said with obvious relish as two men came in, both in dirty kitchen aprons, carrying trays and cutlery. 

A large platter of crispy roasted duck was laid in front of them along with smaller platters of thinly sliced vegetables, pots of sauce, a large bowl of gently steaming rice with spring onion and what looked like scrambled egg at a glance, and a whole bunch of stuff Harry’s didn’t recognise but smelt amazing. 

“Thank you,” Harry said almost entirely by reflex when the two were done. There was a perceivable pause in the doorway but it netted him a few surprised and hesitant smiles from the two before they vanished completely. 

“How did your first lesson go, Young Harry?” Iroh asked once the door was closed, giving them some privacy.

“It was good,” the Gryffindor enthused, catching from the corner of his eye as Zuko went a bit pink and ignored them as he dished himself up a bowl of rice, snatched a few slices of roast duck and a spoon of something that smelt very spicy to Harry’s nose and began to eat. “Zuko’s a good teacher.”

Iroh nodded proudly as he began to dish himself up some food as well, Harry watched how they both did it and realised that all the dishes in the centre of the table were communal and that they would take food from there onto their own dishes - much like when Aunt Petunia had him help with the Christmas Roast Dinner when Aunt Marge joined them. He tried a little bit of the unfamiliar dishes first, immediately going for his glass of water with a sharp inhale after the first bite of the chopped stuff in the brown sauce. Zuko laughed at him while Iroh chuckled.

“You are not a fan of spicy foods?” he asked mirthfully as Harry tried to kill the fire in his mouth with some of the egg-fried rice.

Harry should only shake his head in mute embarrassment before he swallowed, “I didn’t eat anything in the spirit world, and my Aunt and Uncle were… not Fire Nation. They didn’t like spicy food,” he admitted, telling the truth but skirting the reality to let them draw their own conclusions. “It’ll just take some getting used to is all. Is there anything else here I should leave for the both of you to enjoy?” he asked thoughtfully, examining the remaining unfamiliar dishes.

Iroh chuckled and began to describe the dishes on offer, telling him which ones were spicy and which ones were not. Harry still tried them, just for the sake of it, and because it make the old man laugh every time. Zuko snickered every now and again but rapidly seemed to get irritated by it eventually.

“Why do you keep eating it if you know you’re not going to like it?!!” he eventually snapped, slamming a fist down onto the table as Harry worked on washing away the taste of chili and pepper from his sore mouth with rice, some kind of salty broth soup, and a few slices of roast duck.

He swallowed and set his bowl down, “Because I don’t know,” he pointed out. “I haven’t tried them yet, yes they might be too spicy for me, but that doesn’t stop them from being tasty. It just means I’ll need to get used to spicy food. Besides, it’s funny, and it isn’t like I’m wasting food,” he added lightly. He really hated getting shouted at, but if he pegged this guy right, loud was just his default volume. He was… like Harry in a way, but if he had finally gotten fed up with the way the Dursleys’ refused to hear him and started screaming and shouting to  _ make _ himself be heard. He’d seen it at Hogwarts, he figured it was the whole thing behind the Weasley Twins’ shenanigans to be honest. He’d also seen it at junior school with Callum and Calise, he knew Calise had volume problems because of his special needs, sometimes he would just melt down and start yelling, other times he just got so excited he couldn’t control his volume. Callum however was just loud, not angry, but  _ boisterous _ in the way that he thought Aunt Petunia meant when she called Dudley boisterous instead of a bully. Someone who was just larger than life and a bit clumsy with their enthusiasm.

Zuko, Harry figured, was loud because that was just how he was. He might have a bit of whatever Calise did, no one had ever specified  _ what _ kind of special needs Calise needed. Either way, he didn’t think getting angry right back would do any of them any good, it was a bit like dealing with Malfoy, or Cho when she started crying, or even that Michael Corner or Ernie MacMillain when they were being stuffy and twattish. Don’t react. Don’t give them the satisfaction of what they’re after.

“What’s your favourite?” he asked instead of getting all het up and angry over something that didn’t really matter in the long term. He was in another world entirely and playing host to the Spirit of Life and Chaos who looked like a bitchy kite.

**EXCUSE YOU?** Vaatu grumbled, displeased by the comparison.

For a moment, it looked like Zuko was more likely to throw the dishes at him instead of point out his favourite but eventually he points to - eurgh, the  _ fishhead _ slathered in chopped chili, mixed spices, and spring onion. Harry peered a bit closer hoping he was wrong, but nope. It was a big ol’ fish head, cut in half, covered in chili.

“Uh… all the more for you!” he declared cheerfully, nudging the dish closer to his teacher with a grin.

Zuko’s expression turned sly, “You should have some. How do you know you’ll like it if you don’t try it?” he asked forcefully, pushing the dish back towards him.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t deprive you of your favourite dish. Not when you’re being so kind to me,” he refused, nudging it back, mentally calling him every filthy name under the sun. No way, no  _ heckin’ _ way, was he going to eat a fish head. They’d been read enough Rauld Dahl at school for him to know that fish heads were not something someone should  _ want _ to eat, however, this being another culture, he was more than willing to let other people enjoy whatever food substances they wanted to put in their mouths.

Zuko pushed it back, “I never said it was my  _ favourite _ . Just that it was the one I liked best out of what’s available. You should try it, it’s  _ good _ for you,” he added smirking.

Iroh only chuckled as he sipped his tea. Doing absolutely nothing to stop either of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh Zuko, so angry, so flaily. He's been brainwashed good and hard and hasn't yet seen enough of the world to understand that the oh so reasonable arguments he grew up with that excused the actions of the Fire Nation are not the ones that are seen in action.
> 
> Updates for this will slow down from here on out, just to warn everyone. I am not feeling particularly well, mentally or physically right this moment in time, and the last two chapters were a bit of a struggle to put out. There's a lot going on right now and my brain is even more like a wet pile of silly-string than usual - I forgot it was my mum's birthday this week which is... terrible and I have no excuse beyond depression and recently coming to the realisation that I probably have undiagnosed ADD (and am now in the process of trying to arrange some kind of proof/help regarding because I know if I get help with this it'll give my depression a kick in the teeth, and here's to hoping that ADD will be easier to get help with than depression with the NHS as snowed under as it is now).


	6. Chapter 6

Zuko dragged him up at dawn.

Frustration and teenage glee seemed to war within the other boy as Harry glowered at him, hair sticking up every which way, while Iroh chuckled peaceably as he began his early morning stretches. It was  _ freezing _ and both of these crazy ass bastards were out here in loose trousers and tunics at the asscrack of dawn, in a  _ port _ , as the sun was only just beginning to colour the horizon green and pink.

Stubbornness kept his mouth shut as he refused to give them the satisfaction of his discomfort or complaints, he went through all of the stretches that Zuko directed him to, grimacing as his joints popped. He was fifteen, they probably shouldn’t be doing that - except he couldn’t remember the last time he actually did any… you know, actual PE style stretches since he was eleven. No wonder he was stiff. 

It was… nice, he supposed.

Still too cold and early in the morning for his tastes though.

Once limbered up and apparently ready for the day, Zuko forced him through the Five Claws again and again and again, until he no longer noticed the cold and there was steam rising up from his skin. It was kind of weird to be so warm, Harry’s typical body temperature had always been lower than others, he was literally  _ always _ cold. He figured it was because of his metabolism, the Dursleys didn’t feed him a lot and made him do a lot of work, so, his body had to focus on conserving energy rather than waste it on staying warm - his body temperature lowered to where it was uncomfortable but not dangerous. Now with firebending though, he was finding himself almost  _ too _ warm, it was strange and uncomfortable and he didn’t like it.

They had a break for breakfast which was grilled fish, some kind of wet meat dumpling that was  _ almost _ like chicken and pork mixed together but he just couldn’t put his finger on it, a kind of… rice mush with cooked pork and shrimp mixed in, some kind of egg-coloured envelope with savoury meat and vegetables inside, and tea. It didn’t smell like any kind of tea Harry knew, and he didn’t see any milk or sugar or honey near-by. He kept his mouth shut as they all sat down and began to dish themselves up breakfast, trying to act like he knew what everything was and he wasn’t quietly panicking because this was a bit beyond his expectations. Were they going to have a breakfast this big every day?

Zuko scowled at him from over his bowl, swallowing his rice… porridge, “You’ve barely touched your food,” he scolded.

Harry gaped at him in disbelief. “I ate an entire bowl of that stuff, a whole fish, and one of those envelope things,” he pointed out, that was more than he’d eaten in a while. He had been rationing what he had been given by the Water Tribes and had, in all honesty, been unable to stomach an awful lot of the salt-cured and dried fish, meat, blubbers, and pickled foods he had been so kindly given. His body was not used to those kinds of food and made its displeasure known - there was a reason he took to catching and roasting fish fresh instead of just using what he’d been given.

Golden eyes watched him for a long moment in time before narrowing, the teenager shoved the dumplings towards him, “We’ll be working hard today. No student of mine is slacking off just because we’re in port. Finish your breakfast,” he commanded harshly.

Harry sighed, “If I have any more, I’ll just end up throwing it all back up again if I do too much.”

“Eat it!” the other teenager roared, slapping a hand down on the table hard enough to rattle the plates. It was so similar to Uncle Vernon in one of his moods that Harry found himself flinching almost reflexively and  _ hating _ himself for it. Zuko didn’t notice, just narrowed his eyes on him, “If you’re so worried, we’ll commence with meditation afterwards and move onto katas  _ afterwards _ ,” he huffed, blowing thin white smoke from between his lips as he leaned back and raised his bowl of rice and seafood mush and shovelled the last of it into his mouth. Charming.

Iroh only chuckled, “A wonderful idea, Prince Zuko. Feel free to borrow the candles from my quarters until we can stop and get Harry his own, though I would suggest doing your meditations in your  _ own _ room today. It is a little too windy outside for a beginner, I should think,” he mused cheerfully as he sipped his strange handle-less cup. How did he not burn his fingers?

“I KNOW WHAT I’M DOING, UNCLE!!” Harry tensed but didn’t flinch, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out as the shouty boy got to his feet and stomped out with an awful lot of muttering and grumbling under his breath.

“Please do not be afraid, young Harry,” the old man soothed, causing the Gryffindor to blink and look over at him. “My nephew is abrasive, and passionate, but he will not raise his hand to you outside of a sparring match, and that is a long way away,” he promised with a kindly smile, the golden eyes he shared with his nephew were soft and understanding, if slightly sad.

He shook his head, “Oh, no, he’s fine. I figured  _ loud _ was just his default. I just get twitchy sometimes.” It sat on the tip of his tongue before it came out, bitter and entirely too honest, after all, what did it matter if he said? It wasn’t like anyone here knew his family, would know his family, could  _ find _ his family. It would probably be a good idea just so they wouldn’t take it personally if Harry flipped his shit over something. Mrs Weasley had gone suspiciously shiny-eyed for days after he flinched and ducked away from her when she whirled around, soapy pot in hand, during an argument with the twins in his Second Year. “My Uncle was the same so,” he shrugged, “As long as he isn’t throwing the dishes at me we’ll be fine. Neither of my Aunt and Uncle were particularly nice people, and they were scared of benders. I should be okay with sparring or anything as long as, y’know, no one strangles me.” 

Iroh’s face was calm and a little sad, “I am sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged, “Shit happens and people are terrible, more at eleven. I’m not - saying this for pity, just… just in case something goes down and I react in a bit of a  _ weird _ way. I don’t want anyone taking it personally is all,” he said with a deep sigh as he collected the teacup the old man had poured him. The fluid inside was pale green and smelt kind of flowery. He’d seen the expensive tea packets in the back of Aunt Petunia’s cupboards, she went through a phase once of trying to seem more ‘cultured’ by buying hundreds of pounds worth of imported exotic teas from the fancy shop in the shopping centre. Uncle Vernon hadn’t cared because she made sure to get him his favourite coffee roast, but this looked and smelt like one of the ‘oriental’ shelf blends she brought back once. Last year, Dudley had taken a handful, used a mortar and pestle, crushed it all up into a loose leaf mixture with some oregano and sold it to a bunch of idiots at the park as weed. 

He sipped his drink as Iroh hummed, “I assume that is why you do not eat as a boy your age would normally?” he asked as if it were merely a logical conclusion to make which, it probably was but he didn’t appreciate it being pointed out.

“Probably. But then again, we didn’t practice bending or martial arts much so, not much need for large meals,” he pointed out, “What is this? It’s… different.” It wouldn’t be his first choice of drink, but it was nice. There wasn’t an awful lot of flavour in his opinion but what was there was just enough to be nice without being sour or bitter. 

“It is  _ jasmine _ tea. I am something of a tea aficionado, and - ”

The door slammed open, Zuko loomed in the doorway, his face screwed up irritably and just - Harry had to press his lips together behind his cup to hide his amusement. He doubted the other teenager had any idea he looked like a cartoon character standing like that in the doorway. Iroh smiled cheerfully at his nephew, “Ahh, Zuko, good timing. I was just telling Harry about my tea collection, and  _ speaking of which! _ ” he enthused, “I am running out of Ginseng, do you think we have enough time to collect more before we leave?” he asked hopefully.

Zuko ground his teeth audibly, “We have waste-” he stopped, looked at Harry, eyes flicking up and down him, and then he pried his teeth apart and took a breath, “We will look for your tea while we shop for my student’s necessities this afternoon.”

Iroh bowed in his seat, “You are  _ most _ kind, Prince Zuko.”

“Meditation, peasant. Now,” the teenager growled at Harry from the doorway, turning on heel and stomping off.

He exchanged a grin of amusement with the teenager’s uncle before he drained the last of his drink and got to his feet, rushing to the door only to pause, fumbling a little on the dusty memories of Dudley’s brief obsession with asian kung fu movies, he turned and bowed messily to Iroh. “Thank you!” he said, and rushed off after the young prince who was stood tapping his foot impatiently at the end of the hallway, watching.

He didn’t say anything though as Harry caught up to him, only climbed the ladder up to their level in silence.

The room Zuko led him into was painfully utilitarian and kind of dark, some effort had gone into decorating it but he kind of got the feeling that it was not quite… right. That it was probably something that was  _ expected _ of the room owner than something they chose for themselves, there didn’t seem to be a whole lot of…  _ personality _ in there. Nothing beyond Fire Nation reds, and symbols of nationalism, and the necessary requirements. Reed mats were laid out on the floor, a simple mattress, pillow, and blanket almost identical to Harry’s own were tidied up neatly in the corner. There were clay pots in various places around the room that he didn’t dare investigate, it would have been rude. There were decorative wall scrolls on either side of the window, a decorative chinese-style dragon mask between them, a writing desk against the far wall, and in the centre of the room were two low tables, each with five candles laid out on the surface and comfortable red cushions.

“Sit,” Zuko ordered solemnly, “I’m about to teach you one of the most important pillars in firebending - control.”

Harry’s legs still feel a bit tender from yesterday but they don’t feel like an abused bag of potatoes either. He’s not sure where to sit though, and Zuko doesn’t move to guide him to or away from either side. Some little irrational voice in the back of Harry’s head wonders if this is a test, but the rest of him points out that perhaps Zuko is trying to go at his pace and let him go where he is most comfortable. He glanced at his teacher, and then took the cushion on the right, that way, Zuko’s good eye and ear would be towards the door when he sat opposite.

If Zuko noticed that the decision was made with him in mind, he didn’t say anything, or react at all beyond closing the door and pinching his fingertips on the wicks of the candles, lighting them with a strange kind of heaviness to the atmosphere. It felt almost… ceremonial? Or at least poignant. 

He sat opposite and arranged his hands in front of him, “This is the Eternal Flame,” he lectured softly through the haze of golden candle light. “Firebenders gain their power from the sun, it was the dragons themselves that taught us how to bend, their fire lives eternally, burning with Agni himself. This flame is passed from firebender to firebender. It lives with us, it breathes within us, and it dies with us,” he said, his voice going smooth and soft, almost like he was telling a story more than giving a lecture. 

His eyes glinted, gold and alien in his face, the harsh painful lines of his scar smoothing away in the candle light as it pulsed in time with his breathing. 

“Settle your hands and straighten your back. Hunching will only compress your lungs. It narrows the airways. Breathe with me and focus on the light…”

Sitting up straight. He hadn’t done that properly, like this, since his last Assembly at junior school, sat cross-legged in the canteen, all the tables and chairs folded and stacked away, Mister Brogun, the headmaster, praising them all for taking the next step in their education, in leaving St George’s Junior School and moving on to whatever secondary school awaited them. It felt different to be sat in here, in Zuko’s bedroom, everything soft and gold in candle light, his back straight as he breathes deep the scent of campfires, lemon, and something that reminded him of Christmas spice.

He matched his breathing with his teacher, and found himself studying the other teenager’s face through the odd haze of multiple candles between them feeling strangely detached as he traced the other’s jawline. The strange shaved head and ponytail make his face harsh, makes his cheekbones look almost gaunt and the scar that splashed red and vicious across his face harsher. But his skin is smooth and clear, soft, and full with care. The scar is fresh, Harry’s had enough of them in his life to know that whatever happened was maybe just over a year ago, maybe less than a year? Firebending probably meant that they were very familiar with burns and the best ways of dealing with them. Something like that, he was honestly surprised Zuko’s eyelids hadn’t melted together. Burns were awful in a lot of ways. His hair was long and silky looking, very fine, the same kind of texture that Cho had perhaps slightly thinner, and… now that he was paying attention, it looked like Zuko was actually younger than him. About Ginny’s age maybe. 

When he wasn’t scowling, he was quite cute.

He immediately felt himself flush, and then blushed even  _ more _ when the candles in front of them flared suddenly as his concentration broke.

“Again,” Zuko told him, unperturbed, not even bothering to open his eyes. “Sink deep into the core of yourself, feel the energy in your core as it reaches for the fire around you, and breathe with it. With me.”

Shoving all thoughts of his host being cute to the side, so far to the side he may as well be attempting to boot them overboard, he resettled himself with a few deep breaths, remade the symbol of the flame with his hands, and sank back into meditation as instructed. He could feel Vaatu in his core, feel the four points within him, separate but swimming within his magic, they felt like how he imagined unmixed paint would feel. If his magic was golden, then firebending was red, and it was the closest to him, the most familiar to him as the one that he had been gifted with first.

He reached for it and felt the warmth seep into him, it felt like he was mixing the colours a little as he dragged a clumsy childlike hand through it, pulling it into his control. He felt the candles in front of him, all ten, but he could also feel Zuko cradling five of them, all soft gold and red embers, holding them, and he tried to emulate him. His grip was too tight though and he felt the flames begin to die, and then he gave them too much and felt them burst and pop. 

Control. Right. Fire was a hungry element, it lived and breathed, but it had no mind. Fire was not only the element of control, but it was also the element of care, because if one did not care for a fire it would go out, unlike the other elements.

He needed to care for the candle lights, not choke them or let them run wild. 

Oxygen, energy, fuel. 

Fuel was there in the wax and the wick.

Energy he fed it from himself.

Oxygen he gave it from his breath.

The candles calmed, and he felt the touch of Zuko’s flame on his own and wondered if the other firebender could feel it himself, feel the way his own energy ghosted across the candle flames, checking them, and then withdrew. Almost like the touch of fingers through a cat's fur, checking and leaving.

* * *

Resentment had never come easily to him, and even now he couldn’t muster it the way he knew that his sister could have as he observed his student sink into flame meditation as smoothly as a seal-otter into the water. He struggled a little at first, Zuko felt him sink and then jar himself out of it before he had even managed to find his core, the second time though, he sank so deep Zuko was surprised his candles didn’t snuff themselves out. The sudden blaze of energy he felt touch his candles was overwhelming, but clumsy, childlike, a bender’s first attempt to consciously reach out with their gift.

His student settled quickly, and then his grip gentled, Zuko could feel his touch lingering on his candles and fought his initial reaction of offence, mortification, and - he didn’t know. Zuko didn’t know exactly how he felt, and he  _ knew _ his student didn’t realise what he was doing, what it… what it would mean for another firebender. No one had touched a flame he had been cradling, touched his energy, like that since his childhood, since he’d first started learning to use his spark. It was… intimate. Not done. Not even Azula had ever interfered with him while meditating.

It made him want to squirm as he felt the peasant boy’s energy explore the hold he had on his flame, felt him copy it, too hard, and then too loose, before… it was fascinating. And despite every cultural taboo against it… Zuko reached out and brushed against his student’s flame, feeling him feed it his own energy, his own breath, instead of just control it. 

He withdrew to focus on his own candle, bewildered.

He opened his eyes in the light of his room, staring at his student between the lights they held between them. He was… not like the boys he knew from the palace, either the scribes or the servants sent from their noble-born families seeking the Firelord’s good grace. Nor was he like any of the soldiers either. Zuko didn’t -

He didn’t look Fire Nation. He didn’t  _ look _ Earth Kingdom either. There was something in the bone structure, in the eyes and even the texture of his skin and hair, he wasn’t like them. He hesitated to call the boy ugly, he wasn’t, but he was  _ different _ . And Zuko wasn’t sure if he  _ liked _ different. Different was bad in the Fire Nation. Individuality was… not frowned upon but ill tolerated, it bred disrespect and then rebellion. If everyone was on the same page, if everyone was allowed the same things and freedoms and entertainments, then surely… everyone would agree on the same things. A united country was a strong one. Every single one of his tutors all agreed on that even if they couldn’t agree on other things. The Fire Nation was stronger than the other nations because they were united, because they educated their citizens, because they were One people under the light of Agni.

His skin looked gold in the candle-light, he was lean and wiry and  _ scrawny _ , but in the soft lighting of his room, he looked  _ delicate _ . And Zuko worried. Delicate things didn’t last long in the Fire Nation. Delicate things didn’t last long around  _ him _ . Azula destroyed them all without fail. 

But… Azula wasn’t here. And she never would be.

Father’s favourite.

The lucky prodigal daughter.

She would never be here. Never be near her failure, her dishonourable, her  _ pathetic _ talentless older brother. And she would be all the better for it.

He twitched, inhaling sharply and looking up, startled, as a small warm hand touched his. 

The peasant boy had abandoned his cushion, on his knees beside Zuko, his expression was twisted with concern, those bright bright seagrass green eyes looking up at him from behind gold framed eye-glasses, long coarse black hair spilling every which way over his shoulders and back, untamed and not even bound as it should have been. But his hand was warm and solid and  _ soft _ on his.

“Are you alright?” he asked gently, that strange accent colouring his words away from pity to genuine concern and something soft that made Zuko want to flinch away from him and run. But this was his bedroom, and there was nowhere to go. And he was through flinching.

He opened his mouth to snarl, to push the peasant boy away and remind him of his place, only to freeze as he squeezed his fingers and Zuko realised he had no callouses. His hands were butter soft like one of his father’s scribe’s. He shifted and grasped the peasant’s hand, pushing his sleeve up and examining his hand properly.

Small, fine boned, with short fingers, they were soft and clean and - scarred.

Words, unfamiliar, alien, etched into the back of his right hand, shining gold in the candle light and his student flinched, attempting to tug his hand back.

Zuko frowned at him.

“What is this?” he asked quietly.

For a moment he didn’t think his student would answer only for him to sigh and settle in place, like a pygmy puma resigned to its fate, “I didn’t have the best of teachers,” he explained quietly as Zuko turned his attention back to the scarring on his hand. “She made me cut myself.”

Horror made his throat dry and stick.

He coughed, swallowing hard, even as he had to grab at the candles behind him to focus, to control himself. That was far worse than anything the tutors his father obtained had made him do. The minor burns and the bruised knuckles from rulers and crops were nothing, they didn’t even bruise or cut, a red welt was the worst he had ever received from someone that wasn’t his father or Azula.

“What - what does it say?” he asked, his voice cracking, hoarse.

“... _ I must not tell lies _ .”

“Did you?” spilled out of his mouth before he could censure himself.

His student shook his head, “No. But… when people are scared… they don’t want to hear the truth. They’ll do anything to hide from it,” he muttered quietly, making no attempt to pull his hand away from Zuko as he explored the spidery strange writing etched into his student’s hand.

“Why would they hide from the truth?” he asked, honestly bewildered.

His student looked at him for a long time and Zuko felt his heart sink when he realised those green-green eyes lingered on his scar more than anything.

“Because the truth hurts more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking some major liberties with firebending instruction here lmao eat me this is more interesting
> 
> I'm still debating whether or not to set this just before the first year anniversary of Zuko's banishment or a year and a half after he's been banished. We know the third year anniversary is literally a month after the whole thing with the North Pole. Meaning it was probably about halfway through the second year that Aang came onto the scene.
> 
> I'm making Harry a decent bender, but without any of the prior reincarnations helping to guide his hand, he's not going to pick up bending at Aang's speed. He's good but he isn't a prodigy, he's just got a head start because he's used to magic (energy bending), which is the root of all bending I'm HCing here. Also, despite a lot of characterisations that go with Zuko being Touch Averse, I am not. He definitely got enough hugs and love from his mum and from Iroh growing up, I actually HC him as touch _starved_. Harry's got both though because that's how I roll. I recognise the song of my people.
> 
> Also, how fast are we wanting shenanigans to occur here people? I've got a few things in mind for travelling in the time before Aang shows up, but are we wanting to get into the meat of the ATLA canon quickly (like five chapters quick), or are we wanting to have some fun before hand? I've got pirates, spirit world shenanigans, Blue Spirit shenanigans, the Air Temples, a lot of fluff, some Zuko development (and denial, a lot of backtracking and emotional re-evaluation, evolution, devolution, and poor boy, I'm gunna put him through the wringer) and some Zhao nonsense too. But are we wanting to actually cover that, or just, get them in kinda drabble summary format?


	7. Chapter 7

Harry closed the heavy metal door to his room in silence, turning and leaning against it, feeling the cold seep in through his back, hand still locked tight around the handle.

That… had been a thing.

He could feel himself beginning to flush, metal cooled hands coming up to his far too warm face. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no, no, this was  _ not _ the time for these sorts of things. His crush on Cho had turned him from a reasonable teenage boy into an absolute moron, he could  _ not _ risk doing the same around Zuko - they were  _ literally _ playing with fire. Harry would end up burning his eyebrows off and then need to commit ritual suicide off the side of the ship.

**PLEASE DO NOT,** Vaatu muttered.

Was Zuko even  _ interested _ in guys? Just because the Southern Water Tribe didn’t care about gender didn’t mean the rest of the world didn’t, one culture wasn’t another, as he well knew by how viciously separatist everyone was - they  _ colour coded _ themselves for fuck’s sake. To the point where his blue furs were considered weird purely because he himself was a firebender. That was beyond messed up. Not to mention the fact that… well okay, maybe Harry  _ did _ have a type - athletic and asian but… thinking someone was good looking with thighs that could crush him was one thing, actually DOING something about it was not in his remit. Not going to happen. Nope.

His hand felt tingly and weird, he could still feel the heat from Zuko’s fingers on his skin. Firebenders really did run a few  _ degrees _ hotter than most people.

**CEASE YOUR FUSSING. CLEAN AND DRESS YOURSELF FOR THIS AFTERNOON,** Vaatu grumbled,  **I GROW TIRED OF YOUR ANXIETIES. FOCUS ON WHAT YOU CAN MANAGE, ALL ELSE IS JUST NOISE.**

Noise huh? Probably was to him. 

Harry took a moment to firm up the separation between their minds and felt a small brush of gratitude from the Life Spirit before he subsided back into silence. He was trying as best he could to fix the spiritual flows around them, it was probably a good thing that Zuko was on a boat because apparently they were going to have a  _ lot _ of travel in their future. Raava had been sleeping for a long time, and even then, one spirit trying to force everything into the mould that she deemed fit was painful for everyone, Vaatu was soothing what he could, but it was going to take time.

He cleaned up, heading down to the showers, and spent an age and a half wrestling with his hair before losing his temper and gathering it all up in one hand and lighting the other on fire so he could burn it all off.

“What are you  _ Doing! _ ” an unfamiliar voice yelled, a split second later one of the soldiers he’d been introduced to as Private Boqin, was yanking his burning hand away from his head in an obvious panic.

“I was just cutting my hair, calm down,” he soothed, letting the fire go.

“Wh- _ why?! _ ” the sailor spluttered, “You don’t - none of us had to when we took this posting!”

Harry grimaced, “It’s getting in the way. That’s all.”

Boqin goggled. “You’re - you’re  _ shearing _ yourself because it's… in the way?”

Okay, there was something going on here. It felt like they were having two different conversations. “Yeesss? Is there a… problem about cutting hair in the Fire Nation?” he ventured uncertainly, watching as a myriad of expressions flickered across Boqin’s face before he seemed to realise something and abruptly let Harry's wrist go as if burnt. That was when Harry realised he was only wearing a towel and sat in the changing room of the showers in front of a grown ass man who had probably also come in here with the intention of using the facilities.

“It’s a mark of dishonour, sir,” the sailor explained quickly when Harry made to gather his hair up again. The Gryffindor paused, looking at him in confusion. Boqin grimaced and gave his topknot a small tug. “I know the other nations don’t hold much with it, but in the Fire Nation to cut your hair is to cut your history away. It’s forswearing your home, your family, your  _ roots _ . It’s proof that you are no one and without honour. Lieutenant Jee cut his after Ba Sing Se when he - when his orders got General Iroh’s son killed. He never forgave himself and sheared his knot in penance. He’s never let it grow out since, and he won’t, not until the war is over.”

Harry nodded slowly. There were stories in England, old celtic ones from before the Roman era, about girls and their ‘maidenhead’, that it was a protection however small, against unwanted advances. That she wouldn’t cut her hair until after her wedding night, but if any man touched her before without her permission she was to cut her hair and use it to curse him. 

“Alright. I understand, no cutting my hair. Still,” he huffed and then held up the mutilated comb he had been using, there were an obvious,  _ glaring _ , number of teeth missing. Boqin goggled. “I’m going to need to figure this out before I  _ have _ to cut it.”

“Has no one ever taught you how to care for your own hair?” he demanded scandalised.

Harry shrugged and flipped the comb, “My Aunt and Uncle practically shaved me rather than deal with my hair. I walked into the spirit world with hair as short as Lieutenant Jee, and walked out with it like this. I have no idea what I’m doing,” he admitted with a grumble, and twitched suddenly when the sailor grabbed a hank of his hair, not pulling, but carefully feeling it out.

“You need a treatment oil. Your hair is really dry and brittle. It’s going to be really hard to brush like this. Give me the comb, sir. Just this once, I’ll show you how to deal with it. My little sister was useless with this sort of thing too,” he admitted, holding a hand out for the comb. And thus started Harry’s brief lesson in long hair care. When brushing, section it out and then start at the tip and work your way up to the root. When washing hair, use the cleaning soap first,  _ then _ the softening oils and masks, make sure the tips get the majority of it because that was where they would go dry and horrible. Brush your hair when you get up, and before you go to bed. “You’ll need a proper brush, the kind that the Earth Kingdom folks use,” Boqin stated flatly as he waved the slaughtered comb at him, “Your hair’s too thick for this sort of comb or you’ll be doing your hair for hours, and Prince Zuko will flip.”

“Speaking of,” Harry muttered as he used Boqin’s spare red ribbon to tie his hair, “Is he normally this shouty?”

“No, sir. Usually he’s worse,” the sailor chuckled as he began to strip out of his armour. “His bark is worse than his bite and - oh, yeah.” He put his chest piece down on the armour rack and sat facing him, “Everyone already knows, and you’re bound to hear snide comments when you go into port later so, better someone tells you than you ask a question that’ll cause trouble later. That scar on Prince Zuko’s face…”

* * *

Iroh chuckled quietly, watching his nephew pace irritably on the main-deck, waiting for his student to join them. It had been a good idea pushing the two together, better than he had anticipated. Zuko had always been particularly caring towards others, despite his father’s best efforts to stamp that out of him, he had looked after his younger sister very well as a child, even expanding that umbrella to her two little friends whenever they visited as toddlers. He should not speak ill of the dead, and he would never share his views with Zuko who all but idolised her, but Iroh blamed the souring of Zuko’s relationship with his father and sister on Princess Ursa, on the cruel way she broke his brother’s heart while Iroh had been attending to the matters their father esteemed onto him. 

Fire Nation families are always uneven, the Royal Family no less so for their great status.

Iroh had been the favoured child, the golden boy. First born, tactically gifted, far more skilled than his brother at firebending if not as  _ powerful _ . He had been blessed to find a young woman he could love and  _ loved _ him in return, who shared with him her love of tea and strategy games, it was his wife that taught him Pai Sho and how to brew the best tea in the world. It was his son who opened his eyes to all that was admirable in the world, his young son who questioned  _ everything _ , as golden and pure as Agni’s light itself. Iroh often saw that same light in Zuko as a child, until the ashes of his father choked it out.

Ursa had done something that wounded his brother in an unspeakable way. Iroh couldn’t speak for what it was, but it was an open secret in the Caldera that she was resentful of her marriage and her husband, that, despite the agreements made, she was still in contact with her former lover, her family. And that Ozai  _ allowed _ it, because it was a comfort to her, and he had never agreed with Grandfather’s demand to cut her from her former life entirely. But then it happened. Whatever  _ It _ was. And it was as though Iroh’s too serious, socially awkward younger brother who had been kept safe and coddled suddenly lost that warmth they used to share, when he became the son that Firelord Azulon would have praised had he come from  _ any _ family but theirs. Because the Royal Line could not afford to host  _ cold _ fire. Cold fire would kill the Caldera, snuff the warmth of the Fire Nation, and strangle the life-giving grace of Agni. Fire was not supposed to be cold. It was as if Ozai suddenly hated his wife and anything that reminded him of her - chief amongst them, his son.

From that moment on, nothing Zuko did could please him. Just seeing him with Ursa was enough to turn his brother’s flame cold and his energy to choking ash. Azula, who had always been more of her father’s child, flourished under his attention - in all the wrong ways. And Iroh, too wrapped up in the war, and then his own losses, his bleeding heart, let it happen. Reasoning that without Ursa there to pain him further, eventually his fire would warm, that he would come to love Zuko again, it was impossible  _ not _ to love Zuko who was so blessed by Agni’s light it was as if it shone from within him sometimes.

Iroh was a fool.

And Zuko paid for his naive belief that he still knew his brother.

Something broke in Ozai when Ursa hurt him, and the brother that Iroh had loved died from it, poisoned and tortured until only the twisted caricature of his brother, desperately desiring to cause just as much pain to the world as he felt within himself, remained behind.

In the single day that Harry had been with them, the spirit touched firebending boy who knew nothing of who Zuko was, who treated him like any other boy his age, who was eager to learn and easy to teach, Zuko had calmed down. 

The sharp spines of attitude and aggression he used to defend himself from a world that had seen fit to hurt him time, and time, again settled and smoothed. Like a ship in stormy seas, the wind no longer in its sails. His nephew found focus in ensuring his student learned, he found understanding and acceptance in his basics in a way that Iroh hadn’t been able to foster as he saw their importance in action. Harry was a very different creature from the ones he knew at the Fire Nation, different from the stern and stoic soldiers, he flinched a little from Zuko’s more aggressive actions but didn’t hold them against him despite his own history. A history that would help him understand Zuko’s own position. It was an awful thing to be thankful for, but Iroh was all the same.

One must find the silver lining where they could. Or the world would be nought but darkness, without even the slightest touch of Agni’s light.

“Sorry I kept you waiting!” Harry called as he jogged over to them, his hair was still damp but it was combed and pulled into a tail with an unfamiliar red cord. “My comb broke  _ beyond _ repair,” he admitted with a grimace as he picked a familiar white tooth out of his hair and flicked it overboard. Iroh almost chuckled but… there was something a little different about his nephew’s student all of a sudden and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

He seemed… tense. A little restless. 

And contrary to every other time previously, he had moved quite purposefully to stand on Zuko’s  _ other _ side, the scarred one, whereas before he made sure to stand on the other. Zuko didn’t even flinch or tense up when he did either, so their shared meditation must have gone well - Zuko still tensed up when Lieutenant Jee stood too close to his left.

They headed into the town and Iroh made sure to hang back and observe the pair.

_ Something _ had happened to change young Harry’s behaviour. And Iroh would not fail his nephew again, if this change was a threat to Zuko, then he would find some way to usher Harry out of their lives.

Of course, as soon as they reached the markets, the usual whispers started at their heels. 

He kept an eye on Harry.

His hearing was sharp, he definitely caught most of it, and there were more than a few sharp glances, yet no surprise. Someone had informed him. But it was the spirit energy that flexed and moved around him - and the bad luck that followed.

If he had not spent so long in the Spirit World, if he had not  _ seen _ their powers in action, he would have not identified Harry as the culprit of such ‘bad luck’. Mid-snide commentary one man bit his tongue, a woman experienced a bout of flatulence so astonishingly loud and foul smelling her stall immediately vacated, not even the Fire Nation soldiers were exempt from bad luck as one man who laughed about the Disgraced Prince to his friends tripped and fell flat on his face  _ then _ experienced a mysteriously similar bout of gas as the woman at the stall. 

And throughout it all, Harry kept a running commentary about interesting things around them, he never strayed far from Zuko’s side and when he wished to go to a particular stall, he would reach up and tap a knuckle to his nephew’s arm before pointing it out. Quick, casual, unobtrusive. Discreet.

Iroh smiled to himself, tucking his hands into his sleeves as he followed the two. 

He would have to inform Harry that Zuko was not blind, nor deaf, in his left side. His peripheral vision was diminished, but the Palace Healers had been able to save his senses. Such a strange way of accommodating for difficulties that didn’t exist, if Iroh had not been paying attention, he would have missed it. 

His nephew certainly had.

Neither of them made much of a move when Zuko got into some manner of argument with a merchant about the pricing of his wares, and how they had been labelled incorrectly. His nephew startled flinging his arms around in temper again and Harry quickly ducked away with a small snort of amusement to stand beside Iroh, he seemed a little calmer than he had when they first stepped off the Wani but there was something there that reminded Iroh more of the conscripts he knew at Ba Sing Se than his nephew or any of the other children and young men of the Caldera.

“No one sees anything wrong with what happened, do they?” Harry suddenly asked quietly, his tone cold and hard.

Iroh glanced at him, “Do you?”

Embers fluttered from between his lips, and his posture shifted, just a little, and Iroh was abruptly reminded that this young man survived the Spirit World, succeeded well enough to learn their magics and their ways, had escaped from the North Pole alone, and ended up with them on his own. He was a baby dragon yet, but something else entirely lived in his shadow, and Iroh was not sure he could fight the unknown.

“What kind of bullshit question is that?” he hissed through gritted teeth, glaring at him from the corner of an unnaturally green eye. “It was wrong. How is that even a  _ question? _ ”

Iroh smiled warmly, relieved, “Something I often wonder myself. I had wondered if you knew of his story when you joined us.”

He folded his arms, looking away from him, “No. I didn’t.”

“Would it have changed anything if you had?” 

He frowned, “Probably wouldn’t have given him as much lip.” Iroh coughed, ah the slang of the young, how strange and unexpected it was. He received a side glance, “I mean I wouldn’t have been so rude. I know what it's like to have a scar you hate, that everyone keeps pointing out, gossiping over.” His hand hovered, tellingly, above the spirit mark on his forehead.

“Does it pain you?” Iroh asked, genuinely curious, and concerned. The child referred to it as a scar, but it was a spirit mark.

“Not anymore. I used to get terrible headaches and visions. I gained an unexpected blessing in the Spirit World. Or would it be more accurate to say I had a curse removed?” he mused as Zuko finished his tantrum and stormed back to them. 

“Uncle! We’re leaving! Pathetic, dirty, ignorant - ” his prickly Prince snapped at them, grabbing young Harry’s arm and pulling him along in his wake as he stalked back to the ship. Iroh smiled a little in surprise, Zuko willingly touching someone? This was working out better than anticipated. “We’ll get the rest of your things at the next port! These peasants aren’t getting any of our money!” he yelled over his shoulder at the merchant he’d been arguing with. Receiving a rude hand gesture in return that had the Prince’s temperature shoot through the roof, turning the air around him to haze, as he almost turned back around to go back.

His young student forced a smile to his face and in a well practiced motion, twisted his nephew’s grip until they linked arms quickening his pace and almost pulling him off his feet, “Then we don’t want to miss the tide do we?” he asked brightly, “Maybe the people at the next port will be friendlier. Do you have any ideas, sir?” he called over his shoulder to Iroh who was too busy chuckling at the ungainly stumble his nephew made as he nearly tripped over his much smaller student.

“A fine idea. Perhaps we will even return in time for a late lunch?” he wondered, suppressing his amusement when Zuko’s stomach gave a well timed growl. They had missed lunch in favour of their meditation afterall.

* * *

They set sail as soon as they returned to the port, Harry releasing his teacher to take his new belongings into his room and collapse shakily on his bed for a moment. Magic was  _ hard _ without a wand. And for some reason, a lot more tiring. A couple of jinxes and hexes shouldn’t make him feel like he’d just run from the North Tower down to Snape’s classroom in one shot. Maybe it was everything happening today including the firebending and the abuse he’d caused his legs yesterday.

He shifted on his bedding, staring at the rivets in the wall in front of him.

How could someone do that to their kid?

Well, he  _ knew _ how they could do it. He knew there were evil people in the world, people who didn’t care about children, he’d lived with them after all, fought them, nearly died to them. He  _ knew _ . But… Zuko was a prince. If there was anyone who was going to be safe from outright acts of child abuse surely it would be the son of a King, right? They were in far too public a position. But then again. Boqin said that the incident had  _ been _ public. And word of it had reached all corners of the world before Zuko’s bandages had even come off. Which of course just left Harry wondering, why the fuck would he let such a thing be publically known? How did it benefit the Firelord for the world to know he was an abusive bag of dicks?

Zuko was his firstborn… that meant he would  _ automatically _ be given succession as the Crown Prince. Except in the event of death or banishment. Alright, reason number one: Ozai favoured his other child. 

Boqin said that the insult occurred in a war room, Zuko spoke out against one particular general’s plan and in doing so insulted the Firelord who promoted said general. Reason two: The Firelord would have the back of those he favoured… Reason three: Challenging one of the Firelord’s favoured was akin to challenging the Firelord himself, people would have to watch their words around those whom he had put into power.

It couldn’t just be those three… It was such an over-reaction so - ah.

Reason four: To prove the ruthlessness of the Firelord.

That he would burn and banish his own son for speaking out against one of his generals, if that was what he did to his own flesh and blood, his Heir, the Crown Prince, just what would he do to any peasants who may rise up? What would he do to any soldiers who questioned orders? To any sailors who mutinied? It was a threat and a promise to a whole country and a declaration to the world that he was not a man to be trifled with, because not even being his child would protect you from his wrath.

He had to take several deep breaths before his magic started cracking windows. He could feel Vaatu stirring in discomfort inside him but Harry needed to - rein himself in before he could shore up the defences between them. The last thing he needed to do was damage any of the technology in the ship by losing his shit.

Sleep should have been hard to find with his mind still boiling with anger, but his exhaustion from the shopping trip, the multiple silent and wandless hexes and jinxes he had been throwing around, accompanied by the weary soul-deep sadness of yet another kid facing that kind of pointless bullshit, had him drifting off. He was unconscious before he’d even realised he was tired, or closed his eyes.

And that was how Zuko found him when he barged in looking for his student who was late for dinner. Curled up on top of his bedding, fast asleep, hair everywhere, with his hands tucked beneath his chin. He still wore his glasses, mushed up against one side of his face as they were.

The Prince paused, voice stalling in his lungs at the sight. 

Had he been working his student too hard? Concern soured in his stomach as he approached the sleeping firebender, kneeling down beside him. Or was he sick? Firebenders very rarely slept during the day when the sun was high. It - it wasn’t that it wasn’t  _ done. _ Some of the best naps of his life had been while curled up in a sunbeam in his Uncle’s office or on his mother’s sitting room cushions, but here? In a dark corner of a ship? Something had to be wrong. He had been eating from those awful Water Tribe rations until he got onto the ship, perhaps the change in diet was making him ill? He laid a hand on the peasant’s forehead, alarm seizing him when he felt how  _ cold _ he was to the touch - the green eyed boy inhaled sharply and woke, peering at him in sleepy confusion through one smeared lens and one crooked one.

“Zuko? What’s wrong?” the peasant asked, still sleep fuzzed, or  _ sick _ , he was so cold!

“You need to see the doctor!”

“What? Why?” he blurted, squawking a little as he was hauled up to his feet by his teacher. A firebender should not be so cold to the touch! Had his flame gone out? What was wrong? What had Zuko done wrong?! Had he pushed too hard? Too quickly? Had he been too rough on a beginner? Burnt him out already?! Taking care of his student was his responsibility! He would not shame his father nor his uncle’s teachings by being such a poor teacher that he  _ killed _ him!!

“Zu-Zuko, what’s going on?! What’s wrong?” his student spluttered, well and truly awake now. 

“Your temperature is too low! I’m taking you to Junjie!”

Junjie was the doctor that followed them from the Palace, he had been the one to tend to Zuko’s burn, who had without prompting packed his life up and joined them in exile with barely a kiss goodbye to his wife. All he would say when challenged on it was that his place was to serve the Royal Family and he was not going to let two of them leave the Fire Nation without an appropriate doctor onboard, and that had been that. Doctor Junjie would know what to do about Harry’s inner flame.

The Doctor was in his usual office, alone thankfully, sipping his drink while examining a few papers of notes they had exchanged with the doctors and healers in the last port. He was a very small man with long black hair and fox-like features, his eyes seemingly so thin as to be closed at all times, though Zuko knew they weren’t. He just had really thick eyelashes. 

“Doctor! You have to see to him! He’s cold and his fire is out, I caught him sleeping only a few moments ago and the sun is still high!” he rushed out, pulling his thoroughly bewildered student forward in front of him. As always, Junjie only stared at them for a moment before getting to his feet.

“Sit down young man. Your Highness, please step outside. Some privacy is required,” his Doctor announced placidly before kindly, and firmly, shoving him back outside and closing the door before Zuko could barge his way back inside.

He scowled, furious and worried, and stubbornly sat outside to wait for Junjie to fix his student.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Both Boqin and Junjie are OCs of mine, they aren't canon - it isn't even canon that there's a doctor on Zuko's ship.**
> 
> Harry can still do magic, it is energybending afterall, but its very weak and limited right now because he basically has to invent the form because - raw will power is very draining.


	8. Chapter 8

Zuko sat outside Junjie's office for two hours.

(He would claim that he sat, full of patience, as befitting a son of the firelord. Anyone who dared even glance down the corridor instead of studiously keeping their eyes forward so as not to spook the teenager would have seen him pacing like an agitated mooselion, muttering to himself about anything and everything that could be wrong and how to handle it, amending training schedules, drawing up meal plans, meditation plans, reworking their travel plans. The moment anyone looked too close he would startle like a turtleduck, flapping and noisy, before he started snapping and snarling at them to get to work.)

“Prince Zuko,” Uncle greeted as he meandered down the corridor, fanning himself, “Are you quite alright? You have been lingering outside Junjie's for a while. I assure you, whatever the problem is, he will not laugh. Why, he did not even crack a _smile_ when I came to him – ”

“I'M FINE!!” he flared, literally breathing fire with his agitation. “ _Harry_ is in there. I found him sleeping and _cold_ in the middle of the afternoon!” he snarled anxiously, swinging his arm violently. “I took him to Junjie straight away. No firebender should be that – ”

The door opened and Zuko cut himself off, whirling around to see their ship's physician stepping out, quietly closing the door behind him as he affixed Zuko with a sharp dark amber stare.

“This is a sick room, Prince Zuko. Royalty or not, you will contain your outbursts in this corridor at the very least,” he scolded quietly but firmly, shaming the young Prince into snapping his mouth shut. He inhaled slowly, “Your student is... there is much that has happened to him. Ordinarily I would not share my findings, but you are my Prince and his firebending instructor, you at least should be made aware. Prince Iroh, I must request some privacy,” the doctor stated crisply with a short bow of respect to his Uncle.

Uncle nodded easily, “A young man's privacy should not be betrayed save in the more dire of situations. I will amuse myself on the deck.” He placed a hand on Zuko's shoulder, “I am proud of you, Prince Zuko, I know you will do right by your student.”

It felt like there was a knot lodged in his throat trapping his words in his throat as he nodded shortly, his Uncle heading off back down the corridor towards the ladder that would take him to the surface, humming under his breath. Zuko turned to Doctor Junjie expectantly, the dignified little man inclining his head ever so slightly to him in acknowledgement.

“Young Harry is sleeping at the moment, a mild case of exhaustion and sun-deprivation. I would recommend allowing him more time on deck for the foreseeable future, the sun in the Spirit Realm is not the light of Agni, thus we can conclude that for however long he spent there, his body was starved of His Light.” Zuko felt a hard hand on his heart give a vicious squeeze. To go without Agni's light for any period of time longer than three days was torture, to a firebender it was just as vital to their health as water was to any human being. “The rest... I am sure Prince Zuko is familiar with the concept of mistreatment at the hands of a family member – the _concept_ , your Highness, I make no accusations without proof,” the Doctor abruptly interjected with a scowl when he puffed up purely on reflex, and deflated just as quickly. The doctor nodded, “It seems as though whomever raised your student prior to his trip into the spirit realm were of particularly virulent stock. Harry is your senior in years, yet less than half your weight, he will not be ready for sparring until his weight is reasonable. I will be speaking to the galley about a meal plan, I would request you have an eye towards his fluid intake as well. He has many scars from prior mistreatment, a handful of burns, many of them hold traces of spirit energy. I cannot predict how they will act in future but they may perhaps pain him as scarring tends to.” Nothing need be said about Zuko's eye, he always developed headaches before storms.

“And his inner flame?” the Prince prompted, the air warping around him with his distress as he poured heat. Junjie had known the boy since his childhood, had treated him for everything from skinned knees, singed fingers, to a chest infection from drowning, and then his burnt eye. This was also not the first time Zuko had dragged someone of lesser birth into his office, panicked, and demanding he examine them even though he was on retainer _specifically_ to the Royal Family. Maids, cooks, even a gardener that Azula had accidentally burnt during rough play when she hadn't realised there were people in the garden.

It was a pleasure to see that the firelord's cruelty hadn't snuffed that most precious trait from his son as it had Junjie's loyalty to his Lord.

“Embers, your Highness. He has only just begun to harness his inner energy in such a fashion. In his mind it is not an eternally burning candle but rather a lightswitch turned on and off. I believe he learned how to bend as the Spirits do before coming under your tutelage, your Highness. Now that he is no longer sustained by the Spirit Realm, what bending he has learned from them will sap him of his strength in far greater degrees.” He paused then, obviously thinking something over, “There is a manner of encouraging his flame. Am I correct in assuming your mother was particularly demonstrative of her affection?” Assume nothing. Princess Ursa had been the ideal firebender mother for Prince Zuko. Prince Ozai had very much been raised under the draconian shadow of Firelord Azulon. The firelords had gotten it into their heads since Sozin that physical affection was unbecoming and a sign of weakness, forgetting that it was _essential_ for the healthy development of firebending children. Princess Ursa had thrown herself onto the pyre of public scorn and court gossip in order to give her son the affection he _required_ to be healthy. She had been forced to make the difficult decision between her two children and often enquired with Junjie about the state of her daughter whom she could not devote as much attention as she wished to when her husband drove a wedge between them. Princess Azula developed a cold flame, devoid of warmth and life, without that affection. Without that _care_ that firebenders needed.

There was very little chance, at the time, that Prince Iroh or his line would pass. Very little chance that Prince Zuko would ever be considered for the throne. But it was said that Princess Ursa's line was comprised of powerful firebenders who had even traversed the Spirit Realm at one point or another – she always said 'should the worst happen' before making her plans. And it was on Zuko that she gave her time and affection to, 'should the worst happen', so that the fire nation would have a strong and stable firelord, a caring leader. She gave everything up, eventually even fleeing the palace to protect her son, so that the fire nation would have a firelord that would not send them to die like cattle.

Junjie followed the young prince and his Uncle for this reason, and his fear of the firelord himself. Junjie knew of the historical purges, the information and practices of the past being erased if deemed out of alignment with one man's narrow view of how the fire nation _should_ be. Ignorant of how he was sabotaging his own family. He was the last of the royal physicians that had been trained by a master from before Sozin's time, the last one trained in the old ways, retaining the old records. Specifically on how fire was the element of _Care_ and not _destruction_ that the world now saw it as.

“She... was...” Prince Zuko whispered, all that anxious energy snuffing out with the reminder of his much beloved mother.

He nodded shortly, “You must provide that same care to your student,” he informed the young Prince, watching as he stiffened and jerked upright, his already impeccable posture becoming stiffer than a starched sailor before an admiral. “Young firebenders when first beginning to learn their flame, need to lean upon their elders both physically and spiritually. Physical affection, bodywarmth, the mingling of energy, all essential practices when your flame first sparks. I can tell your student has received none of this, his flame gutters and glows but cannot burn for this reason. How his fire has not turned colder than your sister's is a miracle in of itself.”

The Prince stared at him in bewildered distress, “You – want me to – _cuddle him_ better?” he concluded.

Junjie quirked an eyebrow in mild amusement at the fact the teenager had arrived at the correct conclusion so quickly. “Quite. It is an old practice that has fallen out of favour, but none the less, it changes nothing about how essential it is for beginner firebenders not to snuff themselves out. Until they have learned to care for their own flame, they will need the support of their parent or teacher to do so for them,” he explained as he gestured the Prince to follow him into the medical room. It was a fairly large space with four beds and privacy screens, the one towards the back was closed off and when Junjie lead him to it he could see his student fast asleep in soft red and gold silks, wrapped in the winter blankets they purchased at the last Earth Kingdom town. He looked very small and pale. “Please remove your armour, your Highness. For the time being, until your student can regulate his own flame, I would request you spend at least one hour in close contact with him, and hold at least two meditation sessions per day with energy mingling.”

The young Prince was red up to the tips of his ears.

“Mingling?” he choked out and Junjie nodded.

“I understand that the current view is that it is far too intimate an act, but I assure you, your Highness, the only reason it fell out of favour was because it was a practice primarily aimed at children and Firelord Sozin was confident in the superiority of his family line to the point where he refused to continue the practice. And, of course, the way of all nobility, the Caldera followed his lead. This is an old but common practice. Your mother performed it for you, I have performed it for my children, and I should hope they will do so for their children, otherwise I will be having some very stern words when we return.” He did not mention that... in the beginning, Ozai had _also_ done so for his son, and for his daughter. But then mysteriously ceased for some reason.

Prince Zuko stared at him.

“Yes?” he prompted with a raised eyebrow at the teenager.

“When. You said... when.”

“Mm... so I did,” he agreed calmly before giving him a pointed look, “One hour, Prince Zuko. Get in the bed. Would you like some reading material?” he asked calmly.

The Prince grumbled and huffed and wavered like the teenager he actually was before he climbed into the bedding, blushing so hard there was a visible heat-haze around him, “The sea charts and Northern Earth Kingdom maps. Our next stop will be the Northern Air Temple. I may as well do something productive while I'm h- _ere!_ ” he squawked, voice wavering.

Junjie glanced over to see the Prince frozen in place, his student still fast asleep, only now trying to wriggle into his lap. He smirked a little. Just like his Qiqua. Heat source detected, initiate heat-seeking snuggle attack.

“I will return shortly,” he informed the young man as if nothing had happened at all before stepping out of the room. It wasn't until he was up at least two levels and heading towards the bridge where the navigation charts were that he allowed himself to laugh at the two. This was going to be entertaining. He finally willingly got the Prince in his clutches and even managed to trick him into medicinal cuddling – everything he said was true, but young Harry was not the _only_ firebender on this ship suffering for lack of positive physical affection. Much of the Prince's current mood-swings and volatile firebending was due to his emotional trauma, having an energy that had once been so warm and nurturing to him turn violent had upset his spirit. Truly, if Ozai had _always_ been a monster, if he had _never_ touched his son with kindness, then that burn would not be so awful. It was only because Ozai had nurtured the young Prince's energy as a child that it had even been able to harm him, because the Prince's own firebending had not even attempted to protect him from it. It should have never harmed him in the first place.

He obtained the charts with only minor questioning with Lieutenant Jee who frowned when Junjie mentioned the Prince would be spending time with him in the medical bay for a little. He smiled and calmly told him that young Harry required Spiritual Nurturing, and it certainly wouldn't hurt Zuko any. Jee was one of those firebenders who had been raised in the new ways, but still possessed grandparents who would fuss and smother him with love in the old way whenever he had visited as a young filial man, before the Seige. He had since learned why this practice was important, and did not like nor understand why his firelord condemned it, and why Prince Zuko would rebuff any attempt General Iroh made to breach that gap.

The look of surprise on the man's face was particularly sweet. Junjie had often told the man to leave it alone and let him worry about the health of people on board, but he was stubborn and wished to help his General to the best of his ability – even if he eventually grew to dislike Prince Zuko for disrespecting his Uncle (lashing out really, at the only person he felt safe with, any parent would recognise such, and Prince Iroh did, thankfully not taking such outbursts personally).

By the time he returned to the medical room.... both teenagers were asleep, curled into one another.

Curious, he set a candle beside their bed and lit it. Watching as within moments it slowly began to pulse in tandem with their synchronised breathing. Good. Junjie drew the privacy curtains around them and returned to his work. They were going to need their rest.

* * *

Harry woke up feeling very.... warm. Almost too warm.

Between one moment and the next, he realised he wasn't alone. He was under half a million blankets and _on top of someone_ – his eyes snapped open and he scrambled upright with a yelp, startling his bedmate into waking and the two clunked heads when _he_ sat up and.....

Harry whined, clutching his forehead in pain. Who – why was he in bed with someon- it was Zuko.

He blanched and flushed and quickly tried to scoot away only to be roughly hauled back. The prince clutching at his jaw where Harry's forehead had smashed into him, looking tired and a bit grumpy. What was he even _doing?!_ Harry was freaking out, just a little, as the firebender dragged all the blankets up and around him with rough fussy impatience.

“Wha-at?” Harry croaked.

“Junjie said you need to keep warm, and that our energy needs to mingle more. Beginner firebenders are vulnerable to snuffing their inner fire out. I – I'm _sorry_ , I didn't know,” he whispered, his voice breaking ever so slightly.

Horror immediately twisted in his chest, “No, Zuko, it isn't your fault! I didn't know either!” he quickly admitted, catching the other boy's elbows even as he found himself being brusquely pulled in close, chest to chest. “None of the spirits told me about it either, it probably isn't well known. It isn't your fault.”

He could feel the younger teenager's breath shaking against the side of his neck even as firebrand hot hands made sure the blankets were tucked up properly to the back of his neck.

“I'm amending our schedule,” the Prince stated into the side of his neck, even as he fussed with the pillows and blankets around them, “Katas and training first thing in the morning, then breakfast and... this... before meditation. After lunch, we'll train more on the deck before... this... again...” He shifted uncomfortably, hands on Harry's back knotting in his clothes. “Junjie said that... because you'd be deprived of the sun properly while in the spirit world that... the more sunlight you had, and the more skin contact with firebenders, the better. And you're _my_ student so... that's... my responsibility...” he muttered uncomfortably, “For your health.”

Harry swallowed, “If you're uncomfortable Zuko, you don't – you shouldn't have to – ”

“You're my student!” he snapped, temperature ramping up hands tightening, it was like sinking into a hot bath and Harry could feel himself going practically _boneless_ , like a cat that had just found the perfect sunbeam. “And – and the more exposure your energy gets to mine, then, the faster you won't need it. It's for your health. Because you're just a – a – _baby_ firebender. And you're supposed to take care of babies,” he justified hotly. Harry ignored the hamfisted insult, too busy trying not to fall asleep again because this felt absolutely amazing. It was probably a good thing he wasn't an animagus because he might very well turn into a cat and start purring if that were the case. “Harry?” Zuko prompted, touching the back of his neck warily.

He hummed lazily, “Really warm,” he muttered. He'd probably start sweating eventually but... this was nice.

The Prince huffed, “Go back to sleep,” he grumbled, shifting around a little bit, the sound of rustling papers in the air, “There's another hour and a bit before Uncle will expect us for dinner, and Junjie won't release either of us until you're awake with energy to spare,” he grunted, Harry hummed, vaguely aware of what was being said, and the fact that there was now a map on top of his head – and the back of his neck was being massaged like he really _was_ a cat.

He fell asleep before he could consider protesting again.

He did wake up in time for dinner, but he was in no way energetic. Maybe using that much magic had been a bad idea? He shouldn't be this tired...

 **YOU WERE ENERGY BENDING WITHOUT A CONDUIT. THE KATAS WORK MUCH LIKE A WAND IN DIRECTING THE FLOW OF ENERGY WITHIN YOU AND AROUND YOU,** Vaatu explained within him. **YOU STRAINED YOURSELF GREATLY USING IT IN THAT WAY BEFORE. YOUR TEACHER IS ALSO STOKING YOUR FIREBENDING FROM EMBERS TO FLAME, THAT IS CONSUMING MORE ENERGY AS WELL. ENERGY YOU DO NOT HAVE BECAUSE YOU EAT LESS THAN A BIRD.**

Not his fault he didn't have much stomach capacity.

Iroh was rightfully concerned when they sat down, but Zuko explained about the change in their schedule, the older man looking quite surprised and then interested in helping them find a solution. Harry ate as much as he could while the two talked it over, Iroh suggesting that until Harry was recovered that perhaps he should sleep in Zuko's bed with him, to which he had to veto.

“Nightmares,” he muttered into his rice, “Might blow his ear-drum out, or set him on fire accidentally,” he admitted, shuddering and trying to shake his head back to consciousness.

After dinner, Iroh offered to take over for Zuko so that he could handle anything he needed to do that he hadn't that day, Harry waved him off with a mumbled apology for being a pain and the Prince pulled a face and left, only to return with one of the blankets from the infirmary and drop it on top of him with stern instructions to his uncle on how to take care of him. Harry dropped off to sleep and woke up curled up in the man's lap as he hummed quietly to himself, reading poetry aloud every now and again, broad hand smoothing up and down his back.

His warmth felt different to Zuko's. Zuko felt like a hot bath, warm, comforting, sinking into your bones. Iroh felt like the embers of a bonfire, something that could roar to life at a moment's notice. It... felt like a dragon. Yeah. It reminded him of Shang, the dragon spirit.

“Are you awake, Harry?” the man asked gently, his voice rumbling soothingly throughout his chest. Harry wondered somewhere very distantly in the back of his head if that was how Zuko would sound when he was older before grimacing and attempting to gather all of his limbs.

“Yeah. Sorry for being a nuisance,” he whispered, Iroh only chuckled, his belly bouncing merrily against Harry's front. He was physically in the man's lap, being held against his side like a toddler.

“Do not worry. It – if I may be honest, it has been a pleasant return to kinder times,” he admitted, stroking a hand down Harry's back. “I lost both my wife and my son some time ago. My wife to an assassin, my Lu'Ten to war. He was such a beautiful young man, proud, much too proud for crawling into his father's arms. I have missed this closeness.” He tightened the half-hug Harry was in for a moment, “Getting Prince Zuko to hug is akin to trying to bathe a pygmy puma. He has learned to fear such contact from his father. I believe all three of us benefit from this arrangement, in all honesty. Junjie is as cunning as ever,” he declared with a pleased chuckle.

Harry hummed, “It feels kind of wrong though... cuddling royalty like this...” he admitted with a tired grimace, “Disrespectful.”

“You are a good boy, Harry. Zuko is also a good boy. Neither of you need worry about such things with your dear old Uncle. I am just an old man who likes his tea, and his Pai Sho.”

“Mm? What's that?” Harry asked and almost felt the way the man's energy coiled happily at the question.

“It is a strategy game. Come, I will teach you. Let us turn you around, and I will call any of the crew who wish to play a game.”

Thus began Harry's education in another facet of this new world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MEDICINAL CUDDLING
> 
> Junjie is the smartest man on the ship and currently sat in his office chuckling behind his laced fingers "All according to keikaku".

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Harry Potter from Araceil's Yellow Brick Road](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27632144) by [Hope_Is_The_Thing_With_Wings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hope_Is_The_Thing_With_Wings/pseuds/Hope_Is_The_Thing_With_Wings)




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